Once Around The Sun
by eleventy7
Summary: Revolution calls his name like a death toll. Katara struggles to help, Toph observes in silence, Sokka never saw it coming and Aang knows how it will all end. Eventual Zutara.
1. Chapter 1

It starts with a girl and ends with a girl, as most stories do. All those pretty tales about beautiful girls with shy smiles and luscious locks, with clear eyes and full hearts.

This girl is not beautiful.

She smiles little and her hair is long and lank, her eyes always hidden behind lowered lashes.

As for her heart; well, nobody will ever know what lies within it.

But she is a princess regardless. A useless, empty title now but a princess nevertheless and as such, she has something pretty to her name.

Her father is kept away from her, far away in another prison, but sometimes she swears she can hear him calling out. It frightens her, not knowing whether things are real or not.

But the girl standing before her is real enough. She has blue eyes, Azula notes, yes, very familiar blue eyes. Has she seen them before? Is the girl significant? Azula searches through the memories in the anarchy of her mind.

"Do you remember me?"

The girl's voice is quiet, not like the loud guards. They speak loudly to hide their fear of her, trying to swagger, trying to convince themselves they are unafraid. But she can always smell it, the sickly and sour aroma of sweaty fear.

Azula blinks slowly, her eyes directed at the ground. After the first cursory look at her visitor, she does not raise her eyes again.

"Do you remember me?" the girl asks again.

Azula shakes her head slowly, watching the strands sway across her eyes. The movement almost mesmerises her. She had long hair once, didn't she? Yes. Pretty hair. What happened to it?

"My name is Katara and I'm a Waterbender."

* * *

Katara waits a moment after introducing herself, drawing back slightly as Azula's arm twitches.

However, Katara needn't have worried. Azula's arm twitches merely as a reflex; the Waterbender watches, fascinated, as expressions flicker across the girl's face. A sudden rush of memories seem to deluge her, for she lets out a low wail and hides her face from view, uneven hair swinging across her countenance. Katara cannot tell if she is furiously recalling her defeat or whether she is lost in tragic memories.

"I found out today that we're the same age, you and I," Katara says. She waits. Azula does not respond. "I couldn't believe it. You're amazing for a fourteen-year-old. Your Firebending is spectacular." She is not consciously complimenting the other girl; she has no desire to flatter her. Katara is only stating facts. "How much training did they put you through? How hard did they push you? And they gave you a nation to rule." _They_. Katara doesn't want to mention Ozai, not in front of his daughter. Spirits alone knew what it would trigger. "A nation to rule alone, at fourteen. No wonder you lost it."

Azula sits cross-legged in the middle of her cell, her hair still hanging across her face.

"I don't even know why I'm here. Just the surprise of finding out we're the same age, I guess." Katara's brow furrows. "You could have been like me." She pauses, musing. "I could have been you. It's strange, isn't it? We have nothing in common, but..." She trails off, uncertain of what she wants to say. She suddenly wonders why she's even here, what madness evoked this action.

The Waterbender turns and begins to walk away. Azula calls out in a soft, ragged voice. A voice not used to talking.

"Mothers."

"What?" Katara turns, startled.

"We both have dead mothers. That's something in common, isn't it?" Azula pronounces each word precisely, without malice or anger.

Katara hurries away, unable to look back.

* * *

The Waterbender makes her way down to the city, heading towards the markets to find some paw-paw; a newly-discovered treat for the Waterbender. She pauses when she hears somebody calling her name, whipping around to see her brother making his way towards her.

"Katara! I got another letter from Dad!"

"Oh, so Hawky finally turned up then," Katara teases. "When did Dad send the letter? Two years ago?"

"Ha ha," Sokka says, pulling a face. "Anyway, Dad wants to know when we'll be coming back home."

After the final battle between Ozai and Aang, Hakoda departed for the South Pole, happy to leave his children with their friends for a while. But now, precisely three months after his departure, talk of home has sprung up again.

"I don't know. I guess...soon?" Katara says. "We'll have to ask Aang and make sure that Appa is up for the journey."

"Well, let me know when you guys figure out a date. I'll write to Dad and tell him. Anyway, I've got to go find a mango for Suki. She loves those things."

Katara waves goodbye and turns away, frowning.

Everything is fine. Their holiday in the Fire Nation has come to an end. Everybody's happy.

So why does she feel as if she needs to stay?

* * *

Zuko stands before Azula, his arms crossed. Now he wishes he'd never come here. His sister looks awful, gaunt and pale and sickly. It's not right. She's always been perfect and strong and invincible and his mind can't deal with this new Azula. It means he has to reassess everything about her. He has to rewind years of memories and all the knowledge he ever gathered. He doesn't know how to deal with her now, this strange girl sitting before him with her head bowed.

"Zuko," she says and he starts. He wasn't even certain she knew he was there. The guards had warned him she was a bit confused, whatever that meant. He could tell they were trying to hide their disdain for her. They didn't want to offend him.

"Azula," he replies after a beat. Whatever happened to her favourite taunt, his childhood nickname? He cannot remember the last time she addressed him using his full name.

_Zu-Zu, you don't look so good!_

The words are an annoyingly faint memory in his head, as though somebody murmured into his ear whilst he slept and he woke remembering nothing but a faded dream.

"I've come to see if you're alright," he says cautiously. He hates her but he doesn't. He wants her to die and he wants her to live. She's his sister and she's a monster.

She lunges up and forwards suddenly, her legs uncoiling and her hands wrapping around the bars, her face inches from his. Zuko immediately shoots a long lick of fire at her; it skims across the hands holding the bars. However he realises her intentions, whatever they are, are not malevolent and he manages to kill the fire before it can reach her face.

She doesn't even seem to notice, gazing at him as her hands immediately turn an aggressive scarlet colour, the heat still eating away at the flesh.

"You startled me," Zuko says accusingly by way of apology. She continues to look at him as though she's never seen him before. As though any moment, she'll die or he'll die and this is the last chance she has to commit every feature of her brother to memory.

"And you," she says in a hazy sort of voice, as though she's lost in another world.

"What?"

"She has a brother too. That's what we've got in common. We've both got brothers."

Zuko is making lightning-fast connections. "Katara. The Waterbender. Did she visit you?"

"And our mothers," Azula continues, ignoring him.

Zuko stiffens.

"Mother talks to me sometimes," Azula says lucidly, apparently not noticing the sudden tension.

"Does she?" Zuko asks tautly. "What does she say?"

His sister looks up at him. Zuko realises, suddenly, that she's shorter than him. How did he never notice that before?

"Azula?" he says sharply.

Her burned fingers slowly release the bars. She withdraws back into her cell.

"Sacrifice," she murmurs. "The mother's sacrifice."

And then she abruptly turns away and does not speak for the rest of his visit.

* * *

In the evening they're relaxing in the palace gardens. It's been three months since Zuko was crowned Fire Lord and everything is perfect. It is three months, however, of borrowed time, and Katara knows that soon she and Sokka must make their way back to the South Pole. Soon she must leave the nation into which Zuko so graciously welcomed his guests.

_Easier said than done_, she thinks. Sokka will not go quietly to the South Pole, not unless Suki goes with him. The two of them are sitting on the bank of the stream, a weeping willow casting shadows of dying sunlight across their faces. Their heads are bent together in a secretive way. Occasionally a whispered word or snatch of laughter floats across the evening breeze from them.

Toph and Mai are sitting next to Katara. Toph is delightedly handling Mai's blades, exclaiming over the workmanship. The attention has brought out the best in the usually reserved older girl, and she explains how the make of each knife subtly changes the trajectory.

"Katara, can I speak to you for a moment?"

She looks up, surprised, at Zuko. Mai glances over at her.

"Sure," she says, standing up and following Zuko to a more secluded spot by the stream. The turtleducks quack hopefully at their arrival; the Firebender ignores them.

"Did you visit Azula today?"

She's caught off guard by the question. "What? Well...yes. I did. I don't know why," she adds, frowning. "I guess I just wanted to see how she was."

"And?"

"Well...she...she seemed to be really..." She throws her hands up, unable to think of the appropriate word. "I don't know. She barely spoke the entire time. In fact, I think she only said one word."

"And what word was that?" Zuko asks. Katara hesitates.

"She said...she said 'mothers'. I asked her what we had in common...oh, that's right. She said more than that. She said our mothers were both dead." Katara frowns. "I wonder how she knew..."

Zuko turns away, crossing his arms. Katara stares at him, bewildered, wondering if she's somehow offended him.

"Are you alright?" she asks.

"She said my mother was dead?"

Sometimes, impossibly, Katara forgets that Azula and Zuko share the same parents. Impossible, to think that they are related. Two polar opposites, forced to share their lives and parents and the blood running through their veins.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to -" she begins, but Zuko waves her apology away like an annoying wasp.

"Forget it. It was a lie, anyway."

"Azula lied?"

"Azula always lies."

_Why would she lie to me about your mother being dead?_ But the question remains silent on Katara's reluctant lips. Zuko bids her goodnight and leaves; she gazes after him, for a moment all thoughts of leaving the Fire Nation gone from her mind.

* * *

A few days after her visit to Azula, Katara is walking aimlessly along the outer streets of the Fire Nation capital, trying to think of the best time to leave. Aang wants to remain for the midsummer festivals, but they are still a few weeks away. Sokka wants to delay a definite date until he knows what Suki's plans are. The Waterbender sighs. Why does _she_ has to coordinate everyone's schedules?

Locked in her thoughts, she nearly walks straight into Zuko.

"What are you doing here?"

Zuko looks affronted.

"I'm on my way to visit Azula," he says stiffly, and Katara's anger suddenly dies. _Azula always lies..._

"Are you going to ask her about your mother?" she says, her tone much softer. "I shouldn't have told you that yesterday. You can't stop thinking about it now."

"I'm just being stupid," Zuko says irritably. "Azula always lies. By visiting her again, all I'm doing is letting her win."

"Win what?" Katara asks. "It's not a fight, Zuko."

"Everything's a competition to her. She always enjoyed seeing how far she can push me."

Katara hesitates for a moment.

"Want me to come with you?"

"What, to visit Azula?" He pauses, contemplating the idea. "If you're sure."

"We've faced her together before, Zuko." She gives him a smile. "And won."

He smiles, a rare expression upon his face, and she knows she'll miss it.

* * *

The princess is standing on tip-toes, gazing out the small grate that serves as a window and ventilator to her cell. Beyond the grate lies a field, barricaded with a stone wall topped with metal spikes.

The Fire Lord and the Waterbender stand side by side. Katara waits but Zuko doesn't seem to feel obligated to break the silence and so she speaks hesitantly.

"Azula? It's me, Katara. And Zuko." She pauses. "Your brother."

There's another long silence. Azula still has her back to them, gazing out the grate. Then she reaches out slowly, swaying on the tips of her toes, and lays a hand flat against the grate, her fingers hooking through the gaps.

"There's a rose out there." There's another silence while Azula gazes at the invisible rose. "It's white. I haven't touched a rose in years." She thinks for a moment and amends her statement. "Not a real one."

Katara takes a step closer to the shadowed cell and turns to Zuko, looking unnerved.

"What happened to her hands?"

Zuko doesn't reply but follows her gaze. His face grows taut, the muscles in his jaw tensing. Then he whips around and addresses a guard some way away, standing at duty at the end of the hall.

"Why aren't her wounds dressed?" he barks. The guard seems to be caught in a moment of panic.

"What?" he asks, flustered. "The...the prisoner's injuries? Ah, yes...well..."

"I thought I ordered somebody to see to them yesterday!" Zuko looks positively furious and Katara, hesitantly, lays a hand on his arm.

"Maybe they forgot," she placates, but both Zuko and the guard ignore her.

"Yes, my Lord," the guard says, swallowing loudly, "but I understand that the prisoner is very dangerous and unfortunately it would be risky to go near her..."

"And yet you still give her food?" Zuko snaps, suddenly suspicious.

"Not yet today, my Lord," the guard says, tripping over the words in his fear. "She grew quite violent last time you were here, and since then we've realised exactly how complacent we've become with her...we'd forgotten how dangerous she can become -"

"So nobody will feed her now? Nobody will give her bandages?"

"We do not wish to risk our lives."

Zuko is caught between two different universes waiting to happen. In one of them, he demands that strangers risk their life to feed his deranged and undeserving sister. In the other world, he lets the monster die.

It is easier to think of a monster dying rather than his sister. A person.

Katara steps forwards.

"I'll do it."

"What?" Zuko and the guard ask simultaneously. A third universe blossoms.

"I'll care for her."

"Katara, she tried to kill you. She'd murder you without a second thought."

"I know."

"She doesn't deserve this."

"I know."

"She could attack you."

"I know."

She stares at him and for a moment they are stuck in a silent battle of the wills. And then Zuko yields.

"Alright."

The guard hurries away and reappears moments later with some salve and assorted bandages. Katara looks up at the princess, standing on her tip-toes still.

"Azula?"

"There's a rose."

"I know, Azula. Come here."

Azula vainly stretches her fingers through the grate, the raw and injured flesh scraping on the metal. She doesn't seem to notice; too absorbed, Katara thinks, in trying to reach her imaginary rose.

"Azula. It's me, Katara. The Waterbender. Remember? We both have dead mothers."

Azula finally turns and gazes at her. She slowly leaves the grate and makes her way over to the bars, peering through them at this strange girl.

"You know what else we have in common? My hands got burned once," Katara says, ignoring the salve and uncapping her flask of water.

Azula's hands slowly creep towards the bars and her fingers entwine around them like serpents. Katara cautiously reaches out, twin gloves of water encasing her hands. She slowly brushes the other girl's knuckles. She is holding her breath, expecting Azula to lash out or at least flinch the moment she feels human touch.

But she does not. Apparently Zuko is expecting the same, for when his sister does nothing he too exhales long and deeply.

"My mother died saving me," she tells Azula, trying to get to the girl to loosen her grasp on the bars. However, Azula has an iron grip. Her hands are not budging.

"Sacrifice," Azula says. Katara glances up in surprise.

"Yes," Katara says slowly. She has healed what she can but the girl's hands are still slightly raw-looking. She reaches for the bandages.

"A mother's sacrifice."

"That's right." Katara begins wrapping the bandages around Azula's left hand. Azula's luminescent gaze lowers, staring at her hands. The blue-eyed girl searches for something to fill the silence. Her mind grips on the nearest non sequitur. "This necklace was my mother's," she offers, gesturing with a free hand to her neck.

And then it happens.

Azula lets out a scream and the next thing Katara knows she's lying on the floor with Zuko sprawled over her, blue flame streaming overhead. The air seems to crackle with electricity, as though the imprisoned girl is summoning an entire thunderstorm. Lightning carves the air, chars the walls. A column of flame blazes towards the Waterbender and it's only Zuko's deftness that saves them. He issues a counter-flame, the red meeting blue, the heat deflecting. He grabs Katara roughly by the wrist and the two of them race for the exit, Zuko pausing every now and again to fend off Azula's furious flames.

They tumble out into fresh air at last, Azula's screams fading, the roaring heat dying.

* * *

Zuko looks at Katara's face. She's upset, he can tell. He sighs. Naïveté. She had images of Azula being a reformed girl, a hurt kitten for her to nurse back to health. Katara catches his glance and seems to know exactly what's thinking.

"I was...stupid," she sighs. "I forgot who I was dealing with."

"You miscalculated," Zuko replies, and softens his words slightly with the next statement. "It's alright. I wish I had that same optimism, to think that somebody has changed for the better."

"It's a shame she's not more like you," Katara says, light-hearted, trying to lift their spirits.

It works. Zuko gives her the smallest of smiles, his lips quirking upwards briefly.

But it's enough.

And far away now, in the distance, behind walls of stone and despair, the girl sinks to her knees as her flames die.

She kneels there for ages, amongst the spilled water droplets, the bandages trailing around her like tattered ribbons. She used to have pretty ribbons to tie around her long hair. Yes. But that was another time. Another world.

And she does not cry, she does not murmur, she does not move until well into the night.

And then she returns to the grate and tries to catch the scent of her rose.


	2. Chapter 2

"So the midsummer festivals are three weeks away," Katara says, making a note.

"Yep," Aang says enthusiastically. "And we can't miss them. They're going to be huge."

"Okay. And Sokka, what about you? Any preferences?" Her stylus hovers.

Her brother clears his throat. "Uh. Actually, I sort of have an announcement."

"I already said no," Aang says. "You can't borrow Momo and my glider. I don't know what you're planning, but - "

"No, it's not that," Sokka interrupts. "It's about...me and Suki."

"Oh, Sokka!" Katara drops her stylus. "I'm so happy for you two! I've been waiting for this moment! I'll start writing up announcements."

"I didn't think it was _that_ important," Sokka says with bewilderment. "But yes, I've decided to go to Kyoshi Island with Suki. Obviously, Dad will be disappointed that I'm not coming home." Sokka sighs, then brightens up. "But it's a sacrifice that I'm willing to make. For Suki. And our future together." He places a hand over his heart, a noble expression fixed upon his face.

"Oh, so you're not getting married," Katara says with disappointment.

"Married?" Sokka chokes out. "No!"

"But you'll probably marry once you've spent time together on Kyoshi Island."

"Um...it's a pretty big commitment..."

"Yeah," Aang chimes in. "He'll have to live with her then! Imagine living with a girl."

"Aang, I'm your girlfriend. We've kissed. Don't tell me you're worried about cooties," Katara says, glaring at him.

"Well, no," Aang says quickly. "But...what if she has..._girl problems_?"

Katara puts her head in her hands and groans.

* * *

Just a few days later, the arrangements have been made, the journey organised. A small boat awaits Sokka and Suki. Katara is practising her Waterbending in a palace courtyard when her brother finds her.

"You didn't forget, right?" Sokka asks. "We're leaving for Kyoshi Island today."

Katara bites her lip. She knows she's overbearing sometimes, smothering him with her maternal instincts. But she speaks now, unable to quash her emotions.

"You'll keep in contact, won't you? You'll let me know you're alright?"

"Hey, that's what Hawky's for." He grins at her and despite the circumstances she smiles back.

"I guess that's a no, then."

"Come and see us off," he urges. "We both really want you to be there. Do you really want to anger two Kyoshi Warriors?"

"Sokka, you are _not_ a Kyoshi Warrior," Katara says, rolling her eyes.

"I am too!"

"And he has the dress to prove it."

Sokka and Katara whip around. Toph stands near the doorway, leaning nonchalantly against the wall.

"You two might want to keep your little sibling quibbling down." She pauses. "Sibling quibbling. Hey, that sort of rhymes."

"Are we going yet?" Aang's face peers around the doorway. "Zuko says that everything's ready."

"Alright, alright," Sokka says, excitedly hurrying towards them.

"Why does everything have to be done for you, you inconsiderate jerk?" Katara mutters, just to get a rise out of him for old's time sake. He turns round, huffing.

"Say that to my face."

"Which one?"

Katara leaps up, laughing, as Sokka advances, and ducks past him. He chases her angrily down the halls, past a grinning Toph, past Aang, past a guard. She catches a glimpse of Zuko's startled face as they hurtle past.

_Spirits,_ she thinks. _I'm going to miss Sokka so much it'll hurt. _

But she'd never dare tell him.

* * *

Zuko escapes the latest ministerial meeting at last, resisting the urge to run into the afternoon sun. He is the Fire Lord, after all. And so he walks sedately, slowly, until he is making his way down the cold stone corridor and his father is gazing at him with unreadable, shadowed eyes.

"I already told you," he manages to sneer as Zuko approaches, "I have nothing to tell you about your mother. And you don't have what it takes to torture me." He spits out the last sentence as though it is a weakness in his son that disgusts him, as though compassion is an incurable disease.

Zuko frowns and observes Ozai for a moment. The silence is heavy in the air, discomfiting Ozai; his son does not appear to notice.

"Azula," Zuko says at last, "told me that our mother is dead."

Ozai doesn't blink. His face remains set in a mask of emotionless stone. Zuko waits, a trick he learnt from Iroh. People feel obliged to fill silences, and Ozai is no different.

"Azula knows nothing."

"So my mother is alive then?" Zuko pounces. Ozai's lips twist as his hair falls lankly over his gaunt face.

"Why should you care?"

"Because she's my mother!" Zuko snaps, trying not to shout, trying to keep control and withhold the words tearing at his throat. _Because she's your wife! You married her, you had children with her, you raised a family with her!_

"Not much of a mother," Ozai says venomously. Zuko's face whitens for a moment. The rage trembles within. In a moment, he could kill this heartless creature before him...or perhaps just maim him; that would be enough to satisfy him.

But he doesn't. To Ozai's surprise, the boy turns sharply on his heel and begins to walk away. Ozai leaps across his cell and grabs the bars.

"She never loved you! She abandoned her children! She was weak, a coward!"

Zuko keeps walking.

* * *

The grin fades from Ozai's face. He stares at his son's retreating back, his eyes wide with shock and fury. Who is he, this strange man claiming to be his son? Lies. That isn't Zuko, he tells himself. Zuko is the snivelling little boy that cried at his feet while he marked him as a traitor. It isn't that calm Fire Lord who seems to be able to read all his thoughts, know all his plans and predict every action. No. That isn't his son.

The thought calms him.

He idly wonders when the pathetic little boy - his real son - will visit him.

* * *

Azula talks to the guard although he doesn't answer. He stands at rigid attention at the far end of the corridor, staring intently ahead as though seeing some invisible puppet show.

"There's roses." The princess's thin voice weaves across to him like a missile, catching on jagged stone, the echoes resounding in an odd way. "You must care for them while I'm gone." The echoing missiles sharpen into little points, as though she's suddenly sitting on a gilded throne issuing orders rather than a dirty floor of stone. The guard allows himself a sneer. Disgusting, this pathetic and aimless girl before him.

And yet it shames him, the way his people's loyalties shift and change like leaves in a breeze. He remembers when news of the infamous father-son Agni Kai reached his ears so many years ago. People talked and laughed over it. He remembers his own blasé comments:_ he'll go the same way as his mother no doubt, useless, weak things..._

He is snapped out of his searching introspection by the very Fire Lord who brings shadows of guilt and shame to the most patriotic part of his soul.

"Good evening." Zuko sweeps past, looking even more regal than usual. _Must be some important high-up meeting,_ the guard thinks. "How is the princess?"

"She is well, my Lord," the guard says blandly. He refuses to call her by her title. Princess. He's never seen such a pitiful mess in his life, never seen anyone less deserving of such a title. He is unnerved when Zuko gives him a brief and inscrutable look. Did the Fire Lord read his thoughts?

He turns his attention back to the corridor, feeling distinctly uneasy.

* * *

Azula stands nimbly on the tips of her toes, gazing once more out of her little grate. Zuko is able to see what the mindless guard cannot; her grace is still present, her elegance. She still carries herself with that confidence, that agile step that says _I'm too quick for you and we both know it. _It's what stays the guards' cruel hands and what silences their lips against whatever vicious taunts may escape.

"Azula," Zuko says tiredly. He doesn't want to be here, but hope of the smallest clue is enough to bribe his heart and convince his mind. It's enough to lure him back. "Our mother is not dead. Father says you're telling lies."

He expects her to ignore him and continue gazing at her delusion of roses. But to his surprise she turns almost at once and fixes him with a strangely clear gaze.

"Father." She pauses, apparently listening intently to the silence. "Sometimes I think I hear him calling my name -"

"He's not here."

"—when I'm sleeping. He wakes me up with his shouting."

"He's not here," Zuko snaps again, his patience wearing thin. "And he says you're lying."

"We all lie."

He looks at her pale, pointed face, her ragged black hair and her eyes. They flicker around the cell, pausing every now and again to stare attentively at something that apparently only she can see. _Is she secretly delighting in this? _Zuko wonders. _Does she enjoying leading me around in circles, baiting me, using what little power she has left against me?_

"I don't lie." He says the words bluntly and turns, determined to leave without giving her a chance to speak. He won't put up with this.

"Honour."

"What?"

"That's why you don't lie." Azula twists her hair, seemingly absently, around one finger.

Zuko turns away again. The claustrophobic nature of this stuffy, dank place is beginning to get to him. Azula's riddles aren't helping. She will be useless in the search for their mother. _Ignore her,_ he tells himself. _You're letting her win._

He walks away but not with the triumph that accompanied his departure from Ozai's cell. Instead a troubled aura surrounds him, the air clotted with memories like dead leaves and a childhood that sometimes feels like it belongs to someone else.

* * *

Azula watches him leave, her golden eyes unblinking. As he turns the corner and disappears from sight, she suddenly fixes her leonine gaze upon the guard.

"They're white as snow," she says nonsensically and the guard, despite himself, gives a little shiver and abruptly begins lighting the lanterns as eventide approaches.

* * *

The moon is beginning to glow against its newly-painted canvas of darkness. In the palace gardens, Zuko and Aang talk by the stream. Katara plays with a small sphere of water from the stream, idly listening to the conversation.

"Where were you this afternoon, anyway? You didn't come to the teashop. Iroh didn't say anything but I think he was a little disappointed," Aang says.

"I know." Zuko looks guiltily away. "I was busy. I visited my sister."

"Azula? But...why?"

"She might know something about my mother."

"You visited Azula again this afternoon?" Katara can't help intervening.

"Yes. But it doesn't matter," Zuko says.

"It doesn't matter?" Katara asks incredulously. "She's your mother -"

"And it doesn't matter. My duty is to my people. My attention is to the Fire Nation. They trust that in return for their fealty, I will devote all my time to the matters of their country."_ And not the matters of my heart. _The words remain sealed in his throat.

Katara is silent. Aang looks as though he wants to say something but is politely restraining himself out of respect for his friend. At last, somebody speaks.

"Sacrifice."

The words tumble unbidden from Katara's lips. She seems as surprised as her companions to hear herself speak.

Aang sighs and draws a hand through the water, scooping a sphere of it between his fingers and letting it ice over slowly.

"Everything is about sacrifice," he says, perhaps a little wistfully.

Zuko picks a flower and holds it up so that from his perspective it entirely engulfs the moon. The lunar star is replaced by a collection of teardrop-shaped petals. It's an oddly quixotic gesture from the practical-minded Firebender.

Katara is troubled by it.

* * *

A few days later, the Waterbender is standing in the midst of the crowds at the busy market, holding some sort of brightly-speckled fruit and looking about her with a bewildered expression.

"Aang?"

"Right here!" Aang squeezes between a gaggle of women haggling over chickens. The chosen hens squawk and flap their wings frantically, apparently determined to avert their fate.

"What are you doing?"

"Buying these chickens." He gives her an enormous grin and disappears again. Somebody hollers and there's the sound of urgent squawking. Katara sighs and apologises as she accidentally treads on somebody's foot.

"Forget the chickens!" she shouts over the noise of the markets. "Let's just go!"

"I can't! If you give me one more coin I can save another one!"

The Waterbender groans and looks down at the fruit in her arms, examining the lurid green spots on it critically.

"And what's this for? What _is_ it? Why do we need it?"

But Aang is gone. She's beginning to tire now and irritation is setting in. The sun is hot, her arms are heavy. Somebody pushes her aside and she nearly drops the melon. _Which_, she thinks privately, _might not be such a bad thing_. Nevertheless, for Aang's sake she tightens her grip on it and manages to make her way to the edge of the market, squeezing into a gap between stalls. Here it is cool and, if not much quieter, at least out of the way.

She listens to the customers and merchants, smiling as they wheedle bargains out of each other.

"This week only, special import from the Earth Kingdom! You'll find no other like it -"

"This looks like it's been on a boat for six months!"

"Only the freshest fruit here, madam, I can assure you!"

The sun creeps overhead. Katara adjusts the melon and tries not to grow impatient. She feels as though she's wilting like a sun-scorched flower. _Hurry up Aang..._

"...a revolution."

"Don't be silly, Lin. You're just making things up now."

"I'm not! I swear, they say there's a group -"

The voices fade. Katara's eyes widen and she hurries to follow the two women back into the throng of the market, pushing and shoving her way through the crowd, following their voices.

"And you think they want to rule our nation?"

"Now wait just a minute, I wasn't saying that at all. Just that they have some odd ideas."

"You said they wanted a revolution, though?"

"Well, yes, but..."

Katara reaches out and touches the edge of a sleeve, but in a second a family suddenly bursts between them and Katara knows she has lost the two women.

And somewhere along the line, she's lost the melon too. She stares down at her empty arms.

"There you are!" Aang beams at her, a collection of mangy-feathered and beady-eyed creatures under his arms. "Hey...what happened to my melon?"

"Forget it. We need to find Zuko."

"But I'm not finished yet -"

"We need to go now, Aang!"

"What happened?" Aang races along beside her, trying to keep up.

"Tell you later."

Aang pushes his feathered companions into her arms and opens his glider.

* * *

Iroh knows something is brewing. Besides tea. He sits opposite his nephew in the quiet teahouse and listens.

"I have the feeling something bad is going to happen," Zuko says, staring into the cup of tea as though it is a mystical source of knowledge.

"I think it already has," Iroh replies.

Zuko looks up at his uncle before following his gaze. Katara and Aang are standing in the doorway. Aang is clearly bewildered. His girlfriend, on the other hand, looks grimly determined, as though she's about to face a Waterbender approaches and takes a seat next to Zuko.

"We overheard something," she says without pausing for any greeting or niceties. "Two women, they were talking about -"

"Where are my chickens?" Aang asks. Katara pauses, staring down at her empty arms.

"I - I'm not sure..."

"You lost my chickens?"

"It's not important," Katara says, turning her attention back to Zuko. "There were people talking about a group, and something about a revolution." A cup of tea is placed in front of Katara and she looks up, startled, and thanks Iroh.

"It's not the first I've heard of it," Zuko admits. "But Uncle says they're just rumours."

Katara glances at Iroh. Not the first Zuko's heard of it? She frowns.

"Now on to what I heard," Aang says eagerly. Katara stares at him.

"What?"

"I heard something too." Aang looks injured, as though Katara has implied that eavesdropping is a talent and he lacks it. "From a few people, actually. They kept complaining about money."

"We were at the market, everyone was haggling," Katara begins but Aang shakes his head.

"They were saying that the Earth Kingdom is stealing their money."

"What?" the Waterbender asks, taken aback.

"They kept talking about how Zuko gave the Earth Kingdom too much money."

Zuko nods. "That's not news to me either. They've been complaining since the war ended. I did give the Earth Kingdom a lot of money to compensate for the damage caused by the Fire Nation invasions. Especially with rebuilding the wall of Ba Sing Se."

"Yeah. Well, they say it was too much money and that Zuko's too nice and that he's giving in to the Earth Kingdom."

"That's not true at all," Katara says angrily. She has no idea exactly how much Zuko gave the Earth Kingdom but it doesn't matter to her. What matters is the phrase 'giving in'. As though the war is still raging.

"I know," Aang shrugs, "but they see it as Zuko taking money from them and giving it to their old enemy."

Zuko speaks through gritted teeth. "If anyone says 'economy' one more time," he states, "I think I'll disappear for another three years."

"What can we do?" Aang asks, glancing from Katara to Zuko. Advice comes, however, from another source.

"There is nothing you can do," Iroh says, placing a hand upon Zuko's shoulder. "You must let this run its course."

"How can he?" Katara asks. "How can he let this go on? His people showing such...such disrespect!" She wants to say _stupidity_ but she manages to check herself.

Iroh looks at her. "One man does not move people. Power and privilege do."

"But Zuko has power." She doesn't understand.

"Only the power the people give him."

Katara feels defeated somehow. She lets the teacup rest in her hands, the heavy warmth soothing her slightly. She looks at Aang. Aang has power, she thinks, and nobody can give or take that away. He could intervene. He could use his powers to emphasise his alliance with Zuko. He could awe the Fire Nation and influence them to follow their leader unquestionably, their faces free of doubt.

But their hearts would be shadowed with fear, fear of Aang and fear of Zuko, and neither of the boys would ever allow that.

She is caught between frustration and love, and it is not an easy place to be.

* * *

One night, at dinner, it becomes evident that the political tension is making everyone on edge. Zuko is picking at his food, as usual. The silence is awful. Aang looks awkward. Katara has lost her appetite.

Somebody clears their throat. The sound echoes. Katara hates it. She wishes Sokka was here. All his noisy, stupid interruptions...he'd break this silence easily and bring a sigh of relief. She misses her stupid brother.

"Are you alright?"

Aang's voice is uncomfortably loud. Everyone pauses. Katara is aware of the stares, aware of the tears prickling at her eyes. She shakes her head quickly, as if to refuse her tears and dismiss her distress.

"Just thinking about Sokka. I miss him."

"Me too," Aang says.

Katara struggles for a reply. The silence is dragging her down. She glances at Zuko, surreptitiously trying to gauge his mood. She's not quick enough. He meets her eyes. They both glance away. He seems, as ever, to be in a gloomily contemplative mood.

Somebody breaks the silence and to Katara's surprise it's not her.

It's Mai.

"There was a protest in Omashu today. The Fire Nation colonies are not happy."

"I know," Zuko says. His tone is flat, his face unreadable. Nobody has any idea which direction this conversation will go. Katara realises she is holding her chopsticks so tightly that her knuckles are white. She consciously relaxes her grip.

"My father warned you about the civil unrest," Mai continues.

"And I told you, the ministers advised - "

"Of course. The ministers." Mai's face is blank.

"I'm _trying_!" Zuko shouts the last word. Katara tries to swap a glance with Aang but he's not looking at her. She follows his gaze. Beneath Zuko's hand, the table is beginning to smoke.

"If you had followed advice from the start instead of wasting time during the celebrations, this never would have happened. You could have managed to salvage the economy at least -"

"Oh, and I guess you would've done a better job?" Zuko snaps. A scarlet handprint burns the table now.

"I would have dismissed that public relations minister, for starters. And re-organised the cabinet...those advisers were worthless from the beginning, they were all corrupted," Mai retorts.

"If this is about your father's promotion, I already told you I can't do that. It would be seen as -"

"It's a bit late to be worrying about what the people think, Zuko. Have you been amongst them lately? Have you heard what they're saying?" Mai pauses. Everyone looks at her expectantly but she appears to have finished, dismissing her boyfriend from the conversation. She is reaching for her chopsticks when Katara speaks angrily.

"How can you talk to him like that?"

"Everyone has arguments," Mai says composedly.

"Yes, but he's already got enough problems!"

"You don't understand anything about Zuko or his life," Mai says, a slight heat beginning to tinge her cheeks. "I grew up with him, I've always been there -"

"Except when he was banished. Where were you then? He didn't even get a letter from you," Katara retorts.

"I didn't know where he was." Mai stands up quickly, aware of their silently staring audience.

"Did you even try to find him?" Katara presses.

"I sent a messenger hawk."

"One hawk?" Spirits, she can't stop these horrible and angry words, scratching at her throat like hunting dogs begging to be let out. Mai stares at her for a moment, then turns and leaves. Katara is suddenly aware that she is standing up, her fists clenched. When did she stand up? She can't remember. She sits down again. Aang stares straight ahead and doesn't meet her gaze. She tentatively reaches for him, suddenly remembering exactly who it was who confided in her, who told her about Zuko's banishment and Mai's lack of contact.

"Aang..."

He stands up abruptly.

"I trusted you!"

"I'm sorry, Aang," Katara tries.

"I'm never telling you anything again! Now Zuko hates me!"

"Aang, he doesn't hate you..." She looks around. Zuko's seat is empty. Somewhere along the line he silently departed. She hopes it was before she brought up his banishment.

"Yes he does!" Aang takes a deep breath, apparently trying to calm himself. When he speaks again he does so quietly. "I'm going to go meditate. Just...please leave me alone for a while." And he is gone.

Katara sits alone at the table and for a long time she does not move.


	3. Chapter 3

There is a solitary turtleduck who has woken and braved the night to come and investigate Katara's presence.

"You'd be the boy," she says to it. The greedy one, eager for any morsel. He emits a single quack as if in agreement.

"Yes, it is."

Katara stiffens for a moment, a momentary instinct seizing her hand and placing it upon her water flask. Then she relaxes slightly, although a tenseness remains in her shoulders and a slight flush arises in her cheeks.

Mai leans against the willow and looks into the distance. She has the same expression as Zuko's, Katara decides. That look of distant contemplation, as though some trouble is always waiting on the horizon. The Waterbender wants to apologise, to say sorry, but her throat holds the words hostage. They will not escape.

So Mai accepts it for her.

"It's alright," she says to the silent words. "I...regret allowing my temper to rise."

"Me too," Katara says with relief. They remain in silence for a while. The turtleduck wades sleepily for a time before giving up and slowly weaving his way back to bed. Mai moves slowly, step by step, until she is standing by the Waterbender. Katara gets the feeling Mai wants to say something but is holding back.

"You must be worried about Zuko," Katara says, guessing correctly at what is on the girl's mind.

"I am." Mai runs a finger along a curious crease in her sleeve. Katara realises there's probably a blade hidden there. "He doesn't always take things the way they're meant."

Katara suddenly understands what Mai is trying to say. The girl's way of offering support to Zuko is to give him political advice. The Waterbender is overcome with an unexpected wave of sympathy for Mai. She fumbles to make her feel better.

"I'm sure he'll get it," she says lamely.

"I'm not sure he will," Mai replies.

They sit together for a long time and neither speak again.

* * *

Azula hears the footsteps long before the guards do. She stands by the cell door attentively staring straight forward. The guard eyes her nervously.

The footsteps echo. Azula knows that sound well. The sound of footsteps haunts her dreams, the sound of someone running. Yes, running for something...for her...from her...she can no longer tell.

"Azula."

The princess blinks slowly. Somehow, the motherless girl has materialised before her. Azula can't separate her realities any more. She blinks. Sometimes this works. Sometimes it doesn't. The girl is still there. Azula doesn't like her eyes; they're too big, too blue. Like the ocean. She hates the ocean.

"I've come to ask about Ursa."

Azula looks somewhere over the blue-eyed girl's left shoulder. Ursa.

"A star."

"What?" The Waterbender is confused. Azula refuses to meet her eyes. In the distance, she hears the waves ebb and flow and she grits her teeth as the noise begins to grow louder. "Oh. Not...not the constellation. I meant your mother." The girl is nervous now. Azula can smell it, the fear emanating from her, and she prowls her narrow cell restlessly.

"Remember?" the girl asks. "When you and Zuko were little -"

"Zu-Zu."

The other girl winces. Azula notes it detachedly.

"Yes, your brother -"

"He's not here."

"No." The girl swallows audibly. Azula gazes at her through the bars. They're all she sees. They line her vision day after day, separate her realities into little scenes. She presses her face against them.

"He's really busy with his Fire Lord duties. I'm supposed to be helping him -" Here the girl stops abruptly, suspicion narrowing those eyes. Azula is relieved. Oceans, she thinks, oceans and oceans of blue, swirling up around her, splintering into ice and shattering her life. "I'm supposed to be helping him...with some stuff...but he's busy so I'm visiting you alone."

"He isn't Fire Lord." Azula's gaze subtly shifts to one of the guards. The girl looks around quickly. Like a nervous little rabbit, Azula thinks, and then she wonders where the fox is. The clever fox with sly eyes. Behind the guard, perhaps? Slinking outside? Or here, in her very cell, his golden eyes and rich red fur slipping from the corner of her sight?

"Zuko is the Fire Lord." The girl tries to pin Azula's gaze. _Don't look at me like that!_ Azula hears the ocean rising, rising to claim her.

"He isn't Fire Lord."

"He is. About your mother -"

"She's dead." The words fall without emotion. Azula waits. Her fringe falls across her face, a fragmented portrait of a princess.

"Where is she? Who told you that?"

Azula hears the waves crashing now, a crescendo of roaring blue, and she screams and closes her eyes just for a moment.

But perhaps not. When she opens her eyes again she is lying in the corner of her cell and all is quiet. Dusk brings weak light through the small grate. The smell of burning flesh lingers.

And she is alone.

* * *

Déjà vu, Katara thinks bitterly. She stares at her hands, the water rippling over them. Combined with the raw burns, it makes her skin look even more warped.

"Are you alright?"

She looks up. Aang is looking at her with concern. A rare moment alone with her boyfriend, and it's about to be ruined. She smiles ruefully.

"Azula burnt me."

Aang, predictably, fusses for a while. She lifts her hands from the stream to show him they are unmarked.

"See? All healed. Stop worrying."

He smiles at her. She smiles back.

All is forgiven.

* * *

It's a few days later when Katara decides to seek out Zuko. She should apologise, although she feels awkward about it. She's left it too long and apologies do not come naturally to the Waterbender.

As she raises her hand to knock on his door, however, she hears muted voices from inside the room. She frowns. It's morning, just before breakfast; who would visit him so early besides his close circle of friends? She doesn't recognise the voice.

"I don't _want_ to wear that. It's uncomfortable." _That's definitely Zuko_, Katara thinks. He sounds almost petulant, an unhappy child standing on a chair while his mother fusses around him with pins and thread.

"But my Lord, traditional Fire Lord regalia is required when meeting the senior Fire Sage. And the appointment with the Omashu colonies representative has been pushed forward to mid-morning, my Lord, and -" The voice pauses, then takes on a faintly reproachful tone. "May I remind his Lordship that the cincture is a compulsory part of the dress?"

Zuko makes a sound of disgruntled disgust. The voice continues on.

"And at midday his Lordship's presence is requested at a public assembly -"

"Not another one!"

"The public assemblies are a very important part of the Fire Lord's schedule. It is vital - particularly in these turbulent times - that his Lordship is seen with the public, dedicating time to personally ensure their contentment."

"But they're not content," Zuko begins. "They won't stop going on about the Earth Kingdom rebuilding funds and the North Pole compensations! Everyone wants more!" His voice rises with each word and for a moment Katara is transported back to her first meeting of Zuko: an aggressive teenager gazing at her with eyes as intense as the flames that danced at his fingertips.

"Which is why these public appearances are so important, my Lord," the voice says smoothly, apparently unaffected by the Firebender's anger. "May I suggest another pair of shoes for his Lordship?"

"What?" Zuko snaps. "What's wrong with these ones?"

"Oh, nothing, my Lord. Merely a suggestion." The voice acquires a slight affliction of distaste. There is a pause, then a snarl. Violent rustling indicates that a greatly annoyed Zuko is following the voice's advice.

"I'll meet his Lordship directly after the public appearance to discuss the afternoon schedule." There is a silence. Katara realises too late what it means as the door is flung open. A tall, thin man glares down at her. He has a short grey beard and the sort of expression that Sokka might wear after one of his small warrior charges has had an accident.

"Do you have an appointment?" he begins snappishly, but to her great relief Zuko peers over the man's shoulder and rescues her.

"I've got time," he says, gesturing for her to come in. The man tries to intervene.

"We must not keep the Fire Sages waiting, my Lord. A meeting for personal guests may be scheduled in later -"

"Thanks for the advice," Zuko says before promptly shutting the door. He turns to Katara and exhales slowly before speaking. "Is everything alright?"

"Uh. Maybe now isn't the best time." Katara can't help but take in details: clothes scatter the floor, apparently discarded at random. A portrait is propped up on his bedside table.

Zuko laughs a short and humourless laugh, then crosses his arms. "Would you like to make an appointment with my advisor?"

"No, that's..."

"Stupid?"

"Well...yes." Katara struggles to find the right words. "Look...I just wanted to say that I feel bad about dinner the other night."

Zuko shrugs and glances away. Katara is reminded of the caves of Ba Sing Se, when she turned around to glance at him as she left. He has that same slightly resentful expression now, refusing to meet her eye.

"Is that your mother?"

The Firebender looks up, startled. Katara goes to pick up the portrait from the bedside table and then stops, unsure of how welcome the gesture is.

"Yes."

"She's really pretty."

Zuko doesn't reply. Katara wonders if he's sulking. He's always been difficult to read, she thinks. Silences are easy for her to translate. Years of dealing with a sulky Sokka has taught her that. The awkward silences, the moody silences, the cold silences, the contemplative silences. But Zuko's are not easy to categorise. It frustrates her sometimes.

"I visited Azula again, but I didn't get any information out of her," she says, deciding to omit the fact that Azula tried to give her a few skin-deep souvenirs from the meeting.

"You shouldn't visit her alone."

_Well, you don't seem to have any time to spare these days..._She forces the words to stay behind sealed lips.

"I should forget about her, anyway," Zuko continues. "There's more important stuff I should be focusing on." The words sound forced, as though he's learned them by rote and recites them now from the bitter memory of a textbook laid before him.

"Zuko, if there's a chance you could find your mother -"

"I need to sort out all this stuff first." He hesitates, and when he next speaks he sounds tired and defeated. "Being Fire Lord is a lot harder than I thought it would be."

Katara can't think of anything to say. She reaches out and touches his sleeve, but his next words cause her to withdraw her hand abruptly.

"Of course you're always welcome here, but...you can go home if you want. With all the civil unrest, you should probably leave soon anyway." He turns away.

The Waterbender says nothing. _Go home_. The words whisper around the edges of her mind like a broken promise. Katara turns and opens the door, then pauses.

"Zuko?"

He looks up.

"I think you look much better in your old clothes."

He nods. She offers a smile and leaves.

As soon as she closes the door she stands in the empty corridor for a moment. The smile fades.

* * *

And not so far away, a very different day is unfolding for someone. The men gather around their leader.

"I expect full cooperation. Any error will be treated as an attempt to betray our cause. We _will _succeed. By the end of the summer storms, we will have the throne. Nothing will stand in our way."

There's a thin silence, sliced clumsily by the voice of a man.

"But...are we sure that we'll have the support of the people? After all, many thought Ozai was a crazy old man..." His voice trails off. The men around him shift discreetly away, as if he's suddenly announced a severe case of contagious penta-pox. Silence reigns before their leader speaks softly.

"You dare show such disrespect for the man who has given your country such strength?" The leader smiles, his teeth gleaming as a fire springs to life in his hand.

"No – please, forgive me!"

"He may not be fit to be our leader now," the leader interrupts, "but his cause was noble and his philosophies should be honoured by his ungrateful countrymen."

"Yes, sir. A thousand apologies." The man bows low, sweat gathering upon his brow.

"If anyone else has a problem," - the flame dances dangerously close to somebody's beard - "perhaps you'd like to bring it to my attention."

There's silence.

* * *

Breakfast used to be Katara's favourite meal. Now she has a certain apathy towards them. Zuko doesn't make the meal any more enjoyable, since he's always buried under a pile of paperwork and doesn't speak to anyone.

"You know, if your uncle was here I'm pretty sure he'd say something about not working while you're eating," Toph points out to him, biting into a mango. "Meals are supposed to be the most relaxing part of the day."

"Well, Uncle's not here," he says. To the girls' surprise he doesn't seem annoyed by their interruption. He merely props a hand under his chin and looks disconsolately at his work. "I wish he was," he mutters. Iroh had left a few days ago for 'a little holiday' in Ba Sing Se. Katara's casual inquiries about his trip had been met with forcibly nonchalant answers. She highly suspects the 'holiday' has ulterior motives.

"If he was here, he'd tell you to chill out more," Toph says, leaning back and linking her hands behind her head. They never hear Zuko's opinion on relaxing, for at that moment the royal advisor sidles in. Katara narrows her eyes at him.

"My Lord," he says. Katara wonders how anyone can look so composed and freshly-dressed in such heat. Midsummer is approaching and the warm days are becoming less pleasant and more uncomfortable.

"What's this report about civil unrest?" Zuko cuts off his advisor before he can begin his usual tirade of appointments, schedules and inappropriate dress. Aang looks up with interest and Katara doesn't interrupt; it's the first time Zuko has ever addressed this oily little man in such a tone.

"Ah, my Lord..." The advisor tries to take the paper that Zuko is holding up but the Firebender draws it away.

"It says" – Zuko consults the report – "that 'civil unrest is quickly escalating and political protests are now commonplace'."

"Who sent that report?" the advisor snaps, trying to reach for it again. "I see it is lacking the government seal, my Lord. This is clearly the ramblings of a disloyal subject. I cannot imagine how it came to be in the royal mail; I shall notify the messenger-hawks master." The advisor holds out a hand. "The sender shall, of course, be suitably punished for such disloyalty and slander."

"My uncle sent it," Zuko says, ignoring the advisor's outstretched hand. The man blinks, momentarily taken aback.

"You've heard from Iroh?" Aang asks suddenly. The advisor gives Aang a most unfriendly look.

"If General Iroh is currently in the Earth Kingdom, I fail to see how he can offer any valuable information as to his homeland's situation."

Zuko narrows his eyes.

"But nevertheless," the advisor adds, "any information from such an esteemed man is, of course, worth investigating. I shall have the issue addressed promptly. Do remember that his Lordship's presence is required at the mid-morning conference. Please be punctual." With that, he sidles away again.

"One day, I'm gonna Earthbend that little snivelling weasel-eel off a cliff," Toph says, cracking her knuckles.

"You wouldn't really...would you?" Katara asks, not trusting the angry girl.

"What do you care?" Toph says sullenly. "You're leaving soon anyway, going back to the South Pole and taking Aang with you."

"What? I'm not taking Aang, we're leaving together! You make it sound like I'm...I'm kidnapping him or something!"

"Forget it," Toph says, standing up abruptly.

"Hey! You can't just – Toph!"

But she's gone.

"I hate it when she does that," Katara says between clenched teeth. "Hasn't anyone taught her it's rude to just leave in the middle of a conversation?"

Silence. She looks up.

Zuko is gone.

Katara glares down at her breakfast, then pushes it away.

* * *

It's subtle, the building heat of summer. To Katara, daughter of frozen lands and windswept tundras, it's unbearable. The heat is like a series of weights pressing down on her; even in the shade there is no relief. Nights are muggy, the air full and heavy as water.

"Personally, I don't think it's that hot."

"I'm _dying_."

"Quit complaining." Toph yawns as next to her, the Waterbender tries to open the window further. Toph unexpectedly stopped by Katara's room on her way to bed; she wonders what ulterior motives the Earthbender has and eventually Toph reveals the purpose of her visit.

"There are protests in the marketplace."

"I know. There's one every week," Katara says disconsolately. "They say Zuko is a bad Fire Lord. That he needs to take back the money from the Water Tribes and the Earth Kingdom." She lays across her bed and gazes at the ceiling. "Toph, do you think it will get worse?"

She waits for the Earthbender to reassure her, in her usual brash way. _Stop overthinking it, Sugar Queen. They're just protests._

"Katara," Toph says quietly, "I think it will. People are talking about throwing Zuko off the throne."

The Waterbender props herself up on her elbows, staring intently at Toph.

"Yes, but..."

"I like Iroh. I like spending time with him," Toph says. "Sometimes, in his teashop, somebody would come by looking for him, and he'd excuse himself to talk to them."

"You eavesdropped," Katara says, eyes widening. "What did you hear?"

"A lot of talk about Zuko. They used a codename, but I could tell it was about him. Katara, you have to promise you won't freak out."

"I promise. Just tell me what they said," she says urgently. Toph hesitates.

"They said...a group was after him. Assassins. They are certain that the group will attack after the summer storms. Iroh is setting up a safehouse in Ba Sing Se and he plans to smuggle Zuko out."

"Smuggle him? I think they're going to notice if their Fire Lord goes missing. Besides, Zuko won't go. He never runs away," Katara says, trying to process the information. Assassins? After Zuko?

"Iroh said to get him there no matter what."

Katara's jaw drops. "You can't be serious."

Toph hesitates. "He said...he said..."

"What? What did Iroh say?"

Toph bites her lip. "It's better that Zuko's taken away by friends than by enemies."

* * *

Katara is restless in the midsummer sun, the heat searing as fire. Nothing eases her suffering or distracts her from the soaring temperature. Not even the open window provides relief.

It's times like these that returning to the South Pole and burying herself in snow seems like a very wise idea.

But instead she visits Azula.

* * *

The guard on duty escorts Katara to the last cell. Katara half-wishes she was a prisoner; the dark stone hallway emanates cold and there's a draught somewhere. She presses a hand against the cool stone and glances up as they reach Azula's cell.

She stares. "What...what happened to her?"

The guard shrugs. "Sick."

"She looks really bad."

"Guess so." The guard yawns and resumes his position nearby. Katara approaches the princess, wrapping one hand around the comfortingly cold bars and feeling strangely confident with the closeness.

"Azula?"

The girl sits in the corner of the cell, remaining unresponsive to Katara's voice. Her hair hangs lankly and her eyes are half open, staring at some distant point across the floor.

"Azula?" Katara calls again softly. The girl stirs at last, raising her head. Her eyes are sunken, her skin pallid and papery. Her lips are cracked.

"I think she's really sick," Katara says to the guard.

"Well, she's not dead yet."

"She needs treatment!"

"I'm not trained in healing." A bell rings somewhere and Katara hears shouting come from cells nearby. "Alright, shut up you lot!" the guard snarls before noticing Katara's look. "Meals. They go crazy at mealtimes."

Katara returns her attention to Azula. She sits cross-legged with one hand in her lap and the other palm on the ground. When a guard comes and runs his baton along the bars, Katara jumps at the series of clanging noises while Azula doesn't blink once.

"Get up! Lunch," he says, shoving the tray of food underneath the bars. It slides haphazardly across the floor, watery broth spilling. Azula reaches out with speedy reflexes and snatches up the cup of water before it tips over as well.

Katara tries one more time to talk to Azula.

"It's me, the Waterbender. I have a question –"

"Waterbender." Azula holds up the cup as though toasting a speech.

"Yes, and I want to ask..." Katara trails off as Azula gets to her feet, her movements strangely slow.

Azula carefully walks, step by step, to the tiny grate at the very end of her cell. Thin daylight filters through, weak but warm, and she slowly tips the water out.

"What are you doing?" Katara asks, but the princess doesn't answer her. The guard does.

"She's watering her roses," the guard replies, grinning. "Those invisible roses must be dying in this heat."

Katara turns away angrily from the guard. A small part of her wants to say,_ let Azula suffer. She tried to kill you_. But always, always, her conscience disagrees.

In the silence, Katara is pulled from her thoughts by a small clattering noise. Azula has dropped the cup. It rolls away across the stone floor, no water left to spill from it.

And then Azula collapses. It's a gradual process. She leans back against the wall as though she knows what's about to happen. Then she slowly slides downwards at a slight angle so that she comes to rest half-slumped against the wall, half-lying on the floor.

The Waterbender whips around to look at the guard.

"She's sick, she needs water!"

"We've been giving her water," the guard replies.

"She obviously hasn't been drinking it. She needs more!"

"She's not even human. She's a crazy monster –"

"Let me give her more."

"She can take care of herself."

Katara stares at her for a moment before trying to stretch her arm desperately through the bars. Her fingertips brush the very end of Azula's long black hair.

"Azula, get up."

The girl doesn't respond, doesn't move.

"Unlock this door right now," Katara says without looking around.

"You don't have that authority."

"Unlock it now."

"Sorry. Unless the Fire Lord comes in here and gives the orders himself, I'm not moving."

Katara gets to her feet and races away without another pause.

* * *

The warden fumbles with the keys, anxiously talking as he does.

"...had no idea, my Lord, I assure you that we have rigorous standards of care for our prisoners."

The guard stands to attention in the background, valiantly ignoring the scene; when the warden finishes unlocking the door and turns around, however, he swallows.

"Nobody told me the Fire Lord visits this prisoner," the warden snaps to the guard, but Katara ignores their background arguing, pushing the cell door open and touching Azula's shoulder.

"Be careful," Zuko warns.

Katara picks up Azula's hand. It hangs limply in hers and she feels momentarily nauseous as the princess doesn't wake. Maybe it's already too late. She puts her hand close to Azula's mouth. No; against her palm is a tiny flutter of air. Azula is drawing shallow and slow breaths.

"She's alive," she says, surprised to feel a tiny bud of relief blossom in her heart. If Zuko too is relieved he doesn't vocalise it. Katara reaches for her water flask before glancing to Zuko as he rises.

"I've got to get back to the meeting," he says and before Katara can thank him, he's gone.

She turns back to Azula and concentrates.

* * *

It's some time later when Azula finally opens her eyes. Everything's hazy at first and she feels quite young suddenly, too young. She's a child rotting away in the solitary cell of her mind.

She sees somebody leaning over her, their hand resting on her forehead. Somebody else used to do that once. There were always cool, cool hands when the fever hit...

The face swims into focus. Blue eyes! Those hateful, hateful eyes, blue as summer memories.

Except Azula doesn't have any summer memories except this one, where summer blackens her roses and makes her lips crack. Azula likes that. Cracks in her lips, to match all the other cracks in her life. Cracks in a mirror, cracks in the stone floor of her cell, cracks of lightning when she feels the rage storm within.

She sits up abruptly. The world tips for a moment then rights itself. The girl is saying something.

"You're sick..."

Words she's heard a thousand times before. _You're sick, Azula!_

"Poor Zu-Zu," she says. Her voice sounds distant and far-away and the world is spinning again. She quite likes this feeling of not-being-there. She feels like she's watching herself from far away. She idly wonders what this strange Azula will do next.

The blue-eyed girl is saying something and putting her hand on Azula's. Azula doesn't like that. People don't touch her. People fight her and curse her and tell her she's sick but nobody touches her.

And she gets mad, just a little, but then this nice dreamy feeling comes over her again and so she sits and watches the world through half-closed eyes, and the blue-eyed girl has gone away crying.

And this makes Azula happy again.


	4. Chapter 4

Mai and Zuko are having an argument. It is the loudest silent argument Katara has ever heard. She's never seen anyone fight without interacting at all but the couple are managing very nicely. It's quite a show.

Zuko is turning the pages of what seems to be an extremely thick book, although Katara suspects it's actually somebody's idea of a condensed foreign policy. Mai is eating rice. One grain at a time. This is achieving the (presumably) desired effect of having everybody else eat as slowly as possible in order to avoid being the first to excuse themselves and break the silence.

Zuko turns another page; the noise whispers through the air. Mai's chopsticks make the slightest sound as she picks up another grain.

Aang swallows repeatedly, as though he desperately needs to clear his throat but is avoiding doing so by any means possible.

There's another whispering noise. The page seems to take an age to turn. Mai's chopsticks touch the bowl again.

Aang clears his throat, a look of torturous apology on his face. The tiny noise echoes. Zuko slams the book shut while Mai's chopsticks clatter to the table.

"What's your problem?"

"Nothing. What's _your_ problem?"

"Nothing."

"Good then."

"Good."

With that, Zuko leaves. Mai's eyes narrow ever so slightly, as though the fight was over who got to leave the room first and Zuko has unjustly claimed the prize.

There's a short silence. Aang tiptoes away from the table.

"I'm just going to bed, then," he says, and when nobody contests this he continues to sidle over to the door; as soon as he's out of sight his speed picks up and they listen to his footsteps patter away.

Toph excuses herself next, leaving Mai and Katara alone. So many things are on the tip of Katara's tongue: _I'm sorry Zuko doesn't understand, I wish he knew, if only you could explain to him..._

But Mai is expressionless and Katara has no doubt the other girl doesn't wish to talk to her. Sure enough, Mai gets up and leaves without a word.

The Waterbender sighs.

* * *

Katara stares in despair at her open window.

It _looks_ like it's open. All visual evidence _suggests_ that it's open.

But it certainly doesn't feel open. _Has anybody in the Fire Nation ever heard of a breeze?_ Katara thinks unhappily.

There's a knock on her door.

"Come in," she says with a sigh, turning away from the window. Aang pops his head around the door, followed by Toph. Katara frowns.

"I've got something to show you. A letter from Iroh."

"What's it say?"

"I read it this morning." Aang hesitates. "It was addressed to all three of us, although it was delivered to me. I thought I should read it aloud to you and Toph." He unravels the scroll but Toph holds out a hand.

"Wait," she says, closing the door. She concentrates for a moment, her feet firmly planted on the floor. "We're alone."

Aang gives her a confused look, but Katara's heart sinks. She can guess the contents of the letter.

Aang reads it out slowly, his voice growing heavier with each sentence. True to Katara's instincts, Iroh explains the threat to Zuko, saying that they suspect the ministerial cabinet has been infiltrated. The leader of the assassin group, he suspects, is already close to Zuko and would know his daily schedules. They have strong evidence that the assassination will occur directly after the summer storms. Iroh promised to return shortly, but urged them to be aware: "I have decided to tell you this information because you need to be aware of the danger. I urge you to leave the Fire Nation before the summer storms. Any friend of Zuko's is at risk. You are all welcome at my safehouse in Ba Sing Se." Aang reads the sign-off, then frowns and rolls the letter back up.

"I thought about it all morning," he says, "and I'm not leaving until Zuko is safe."

"Me neither," Toph says fiercely.

"Well, that makes three of us," Katara adds.

"We need to keep an eye out for anything unusual." Aang holds up the scroll. "We can be Iroh's eyes and ears."

"And that advisor needs to be kept away from Zuko," Toph adds. Aang and Katara frown at her, confused. "Come on, guys. Somebody's infiltrated the cabinet? Somebody who is close to Zuko and knows his schedule?

Realisation dawns across Aang's face. Katara's heart sinks.

"From now on, that advisor is followed everywhere," she says.

"Agreed," Aang and Toph say simultaneously.

Katara turns to gaze out the window, her heart heavier than ever.

* * *

The palace transforms into a flurry of people over the next couple of weeks. Strange imports arrive from the Earth Kingdom. Banners and flags appear around the plaza. Zuko is even harder to find, buried under piles of paperwork.

One lazy morning, spent in the gardens in the slightly cooler shade, Aang finds Katara feeding the turtleducks.

"Feel like coming to the markets?"

Katara sighs. "It's hot. I'm melting just sitting here." She tosses another morsel of bread to the female turtleduck and is annoyed when the male darts in and snatches it up.

"Come on. Zuko's birthday celebrations are in a week."

Katara gives him a blank look.

"That's what all the fuss has been about. You must've noticed," Aang says disbelievingly.

"So? I turned fifteen three months ago."

"You didn't tell anyone!" Aang is aghast.

"No. A birthday's just a birthday. In the Water Tribe we only celebrate the winter solstice, when the night is longest and the moon is highest."

"Oh. Well...the Fire Lord's birthday's a big deal over here. There's a huge feast in his honour and he gets loads of presents from the ministers." Aang looks envious.

"Okay, well, I'll be there then. If Zuko remembers to invite us," Katara adds, slightly resentful.

"He's just really busy, that's all. Come on, let's go to the market and choose a present for him."

Katara throws the last of the bread to the turtleducks and stands up.

* * *

The stares are heavy upon her and Aang. Whispers rise and fall around them like a bitter tide. Katara pretends to be completely absorbed in selecting the ripest mango as Aang stands beside her, trying to chat to the owner of the market stall. The merchant stares stonily at Aang, not answering any questions. The whispers wash around them.

"...the Avatar..."

"...Fire Lord's honoured guests..."

"Living off the royal purse for months now, I hear..."

Katara holds up a mango, trying to summon up a smile at the merchant.

"How much for the mango?"

"One silver piece," he grunts. Katara's eyebrows rise.

"But I just saw you sell a mango to that woman for two copper pieces!"

"Take it or leave it," he replies, turning away. Katara hears a murmur from behind her.

"The Fire Lord's having a feast, I hear. Spending our money on entertaining those who waged war against us..."

"No doubt his foreign friends will be stuffing their faces –"

The Waterbender whips around.

"Who said that?" she snaps. Aang tugs on her sleeve.

"Come on, let's just go," he mutters.

"No!" Katara turns to the crowd, addressing them boldly. "If you've got something to say, say it to my face!"

"I said," a woman steps forward aggressively, "No doubt his foreign friends will be stuffing their faces." She pronounces each syllable with deliberate precision.

The crowd hushes. Katara stares at the woman; she meets the Waterbender's eyes unblinkingly.

"Zuko's doing all he can for you people! Why are you being so ungrateful?"

"Katara!" Aang pleads. "Please, let's just leave –"

"And she says we're ungrateful!" the woman says, turning to address the crowd and ignoring Aang. "Ungrateful! What should we be grateful for? The bread we don't eat? The money that doesn't pass through our hands?"

"Your army bullied other countries and took whatever they wanted," Katara says heatedly. "It's only right you should pay them back now. I'm sorry if it means you have to go without, but think of the many Water and Earth Kingdom families that –"

"You hear that?" the woman calls. "The foreigner thinks that it's right that she should take away our hard-earned money, that we _deserve_ to suffer!"

The crowd jeers wildly, drowning out Katara.

"Let's just go," Aang begs. "They won't listen to us."

Katara gazes at them for a moment. She sees their lips twisting cruelly, their eyes glittering with coldness, their knuckles whitening as they clench their fists.

After a long moment, her shoulders slump and she turns.

"Okay," she says. "Let's go."

They walk away from the mob, their eyes cast downwards. Aang whispers to Katara.

"See, they're everywhere now."

"Who?"

"The revolutionaries."

Katara twists her neck round and gazes over her shoulder. The people are silent now, resuming their shopping. Only the woman still stares at her, with eyes as hard and cold as pebbles.

Katara turns back around and suppresses a shiver.

* * *

But later that night, Katara's foreboding feelings are forgotten as she rests in the gardens. She sits by the bank of the stream, her toes skimming the cool water.

"Katara?"

She glances up and smiles at Zuko, pleased to see him away from all the paperwork. He's lost his harried expression and looks better than he has recently.

"This is for you." He holds out an envelope and Katara accepts it, frowning. It's sealed with red wax, the insignia of the Fire Nation stamped deep into it.

"Can I open it now?"

"Of course," Zuko says. Katara glances up at him for a moment then gestures for him to sit beside her.

"I was hoping you could tell me where all the turtleducks are."

"Sleeping somewhere, I guess," Zuko says, settling beside her. "Probably preparing for the summer storms."

"Storms? You mean this heat will break soon?" Katara slips a fingernail under the wax; it's slightly warm and still pliant, yielding easily as she opens the envelope. She stares at the strange letter in her hand. It looks quite beautiful but she examines the graceful brush strokes with confusion.

"Yes. I think you'll like the storms. Afterward, we hold festivals and celebrate the oncoming season of harvesting." There's a pause and Zuko turns to her, puzzled by her lack of response. Then he smiles slightly. "It's in traditional Fire Nation script. Would you like a translation?"

"That would be helpful," Katara says, holding out the letter.

"It says you're invited to the commemorative celebrations," Zuko replies, without taking the missive.

"Can you read it out? What's this little squiggly thing mean? It looks a lot like my tribe's symbol for Waterbending. Is it my name?"

"Yes. It addresses you as 'Honourable Katara, Master Waterbender and Daughter of the Deep South.'"

Katara gives a laugh of delight. "Really? How did they translate my name into traditional Fire Nation script?"

"I don't know," Zuko says. "I heard the royal scribe was having problems with it all week."

"Is that your name signed at the bottom?" Katara turns her head slightly. "It looks so complicated. And what does this mean, this little curved line?"

"It adds emphasis. It's over the word 'formal'. It says 'Formal and ceremonial dress is required.'"

"Am I supposed to wear something Fire Nation?" Katara says, suddenly worrying; she's reverted to wearing her Water Tribe clothes.

"I'll ask Mai to help you," Zuko promises. "She'll know what you should wear."

"What about 'ceremonial'? What's it mean by that?"

"Don't worry about that, that's for officials. They wear their war medals and ornamental swords."

Katara gazes at the letter, her troubles dissipating like smoke as curiosity takes over.

"Aang says there'll be a huge feast."

Zuko nods. "And dancing. There won't be many people though. It's held in the Coronation Plaza and only high officials are allowed to attend."

"I'm not a high official," Katara points out.

"My friends are invited too," Zuko amends.

There's a lull in conversation; Katara bites her lip before speaking.

"So...every high official will be in attendance?"

"Yes. If anybody refuses a royal invite, it's considered a calculated insult to the Fire Lord."

"So your advisor will be there?"

Zuko gives her an odd look.

"Yes," he replies. "Why?"

Katara doesn't quite meet his eyes. "I just don't think you should trust him, that's all."

"I know he's not the nicest person, but he's the best advisor in the country," Zuko says.

"What's he actually do?" Katara asks boldly. Zuko looks taken aback for a moment before shrugging.

"He helps me with negotiations, mediates meetings and makes all my appointments." Zuko looks at her and she knows her casual tone isn't fooling him. She holds up the letter, trying to change topics.

"I'll see if I can come. After all, I wouldn't want to insult the Fire Lord," she adds, and Zuko's lips curve ever so slightly.

"You mean the Jerkbender."

"Hey, I never called you that," she says, unable to suppress a grin. They look at each other and for a moment Katara thinks of how she'll miss him when she leaves. "But of course I'll be there," she adds after a second. "Besides, Aang loves to dance." She smiles, locked in a memory, but Zuko's expression dissolves her happiness.

"What?"

"Didn't you hear?" he asks, surprised. "Aang and Toph are leaving two days before the celebrations. They didn't say why." After a brief silence, he continues. "I'm sorry, I thought they'd told you."

Katara stands up suddenly.

"Are you okay?" Zuko asks.

"I'm going to find Aang," she says, her tone foreboding.

Zuko, rather sensibly, retreats.

* * *

"We were supposed to wait until after the summer storms!"

"I know, I know." Aang looks miserable. "But it's only for a week, and we'll be back in time to get Zuko out!"

Katara turns her back, still hurt.

"I'm sorry!" Aang tries. "But Iroh sent another letter, asking for us to come to Ba Sing Se and help arrange a way to get Zuko out of the Fire Nation. He said we need to come in person, it's too dangerous to talk about in letters."

"You might have told me at least!"

"I didn't have the chance! I was looking for you when I ran into Zuko and told him. That's the only reason he found out first!" He pauses. "You're coming too. We can't leave you here."

Katara still gazes moodily away from him. Aang presses on with a more hopeful tone.

"Once we've talked to Iroh and we've made the final arrangements, we'll come back." He hesitates. Katara is silent for a moment. Aang looks at her, wondering if she's still angry with him. When she speaks next, however, her voice is quiet and low.

"I think I should stay here."

"What?"

"Just in case anything happens. Plus I can keep an eye on the advisor while you guys are gone."

"I don't know, Katara. I don't really like the thought of you here alone."

"I'm a master Waterbender." Katara looks at him skeptically.

Aang chews his lip, thinking. "Well...I guess...nothing is going to happen until after the storms anyway, and we'll be back by then." He touches her hand.

"Stay safe, Katara."

* * *

Sometimes she thinks she can remember it all. Everything, like all the memories she's ever held are cupped in the open petals of an invisible rose outside her narrow window.

_Azula..._

People say that name a lot. Once upon a time somebody used to sing that name like a lullaby, paint the air with it like a picture of the world, like winter's memory of summer.

The princess opens her eyes and she's standing tall and proud at the base of a column. It's draped with a scarlet flag and the floor is now shiny as gold. She can feel the sunlight on her hair, stroking the strands like an outstretched hand.

But just out of sight, she hears the whisper.

_You're sick, Azula!_

_What is _wrong_ with that girl?_

And then the whispers rush around her, pushing and pulling like an eddying tide until there's nothing but one word, murmured by blood-red lips:

..._ Monster._

"Not fit to be human."

Azula turns. The man is staring at her, his lip curled in disgust. There are no scarlet flags now, only bars as thick and black as rough pen strokes. The floor beneath her feet is not golden but a grit-covered grey.

As for the moon and stars...even in all their power and glory, they cannot reach into her dank cell and dark mind.

The princess stretches a hand through the grill and strokes a silky, fragile rose petal.

"Isn't that right? Not fit to be human, that's what you are." The guard stares at her. "You're a monster."

But Azula doesn't hear him.

* * *

And far away from the darkness of Azula's cell, where only cold starlight gives her illumination, the Coronation Plaza is ablaze with colourful lanterns and voices raised in song.

The women are tall and elegant, the men stiff and uncomfortable in unfamiliar formal clothes. Katara plucks at the clothes Mai lent her, knowing they don't flatter her body at all. She feels lost somehow, an awkward girl in amongst all the women, a dandelion in a bouquet of midsummer roses. She's never felt so uncomfortable or out of place; she feels like she's watching a scene from a play. The noise rises and falls with the music, the lilting laughs and deep voices echoing so they almost seem part of the song itself, an ode of celebration.

And there's Mai, talking to another woman. Her long fingers are wrapped around a wineglass with casual grace, a small ring glinting on her index finger. Katara wonders if Zuko gave it to her.

Katara creeps away from the crowd, finding relief in a shadowy nook in the very corner of the plaza. As she slumps against a column, allowing herself a small sigh, the noise quietens and the movement stills: Zuko has arrived. The crowd parts, the ministers and their spouses bowing as Zuko enters the plaza. He's too far away for Katara to note his expression.

Hearing the quiet murmur of water nearby, she glances around before realising she's standing in the exact place of Azula's capture. Katara has to close her eyes for a moment, fending off a sudden dizziness.

Perhaps she had closed her eyes for longer than she thought, for when she opens them the band is playing again and people have started dancing, Fire Nation dances that she doesn't recognise. Through the gracefully swirling crowd, Katara tries to spot a familiar face – anyone at all – and fails. She desperately wishes Aang and Toph were still there.

"I am _not_ dancing."

Katara jumps as the voice snaps out the statement; the speaker is nearby.

"Why not? Already too tired from dancing with that stupid minister's son?"

"Urgh, don't tell me you're jealous again."

"I just want one dance." Zuko's voice is annoyed.

"So? Pick someone else," Mai replies.

"You're my girlfriend."

"It's a dance, Zuko, not a date."

"Fine. Maybe I'll go dance with that girl." There's a rustling sound as though Zuko is pointing out somebody.

"Go ahead."

There's a long silence. Then Zuko speaks.

"Sometimes I wish you cared a little more."

Katara watches as he passes by, his profile outlined by the lanterns behind him. It's a perfect moment that's captured in her mind forever. The sharp angle of his jaw, the straight slope of his nose, the smooth curve that defines the nape of his neck.

And then he walks on. Katara gazes for a moment at the empty space between the two columns before turning and stifling a gasp of surprise.

Mai stands there silently. Katara opens her mouth, searching wildly for something to say.

"I told you he never gets it," the other girl says, her tone indecipherable and her face expressionless.

"I'm sorry." Katara's not sure what she's apologising for, but it doesn't matter. Mai has already swept past her.

Katara gazes at the ground, certain she's overheard the final argument of a couple whose love is quickly disintegrating.

She walks away from it all. The smiling couples, the laughing women and the serious men. The glasses are held aloft, grand speeches are being made to appreciative audiences. The lanterns bob as if they too want to join in the dancing and celebrations. Their bright colour casts a wondrous glow over everything, glossing it over like a fairytale picture.

Katara walks away into darkness until the laughter has faded and the music is all but a far-off thrum. She walks up steep streets until she has gained a good view over the plaza.

She frowns.

There. Right there. Is that a person, hiding on the roof of the plaza?

The more she stares, the more she starts to see other figures hiding around the plaza.

Katara feels frozen to the spot for a moment.

Then she breaks into a run.

* * *

Azula sits, cross-legged, on the floor of her cell. Her face is a bare inch away from the bars and the guard is unsettled by her intense gaze.

"No invisible roses tonight?" he says nastily, trying to smooth over the dark beast of fear clawing through his belly.

She watches him silently.

"They don't exist," he says. "You're crazy. The Freak of the Fire Nation, that's what they call you."

Silence.

His voice suddenly seems too loud, even to himself. The lanterns flicker, sending wild shadows prowling around the corners and crannies. The guard shivers.

"The loony princess," he mumbles.

The lanterns go out.

In the darkness, Azula's eyes gleam. The guard is frozen in place, some deep instinct refusing to let him move.

"There's a full moon tonight." Azula's voice whispers through the cell like a cold wind.

The guard turns his head slowly. There's something_..._in the distance...a roaring sound, like the ocean. Except it's growing louder and louder...

Azula begins to laugh.

* * *

She runs.

Every step she takes feels as though she's learning to walk for the first time; every breath feels like the first she's ever drawn, cold and stinging and never enough.

And even now, as she nears the plaza, she thinks _it's too late._ It was always going to be too late.

Was this what Zuko felt, so many weeks ago in this very plaza? The unbearable pain of the words _too late_ whisper through her mind like a broken vow; her heart seems to be frozen mid-beat, left in a moment where hope dies without a fight.

She has finally reached the plaza now. The scene blurs around her like a strange and eerie masquerade. Every detail seems magnified, every face warped into grotesque parodies. The graceful smiles become rows of pointed teeth, the happy eyes become hard and menacing. The men all carry ceremonial swords, swords that in a moment will be stained with red. Goblets clink and wine spills; for a moment Katara sees blood spilling, broadening into a thick and slippery river.

She blinks. _Focus. Find someone. Anyone._

"Katara?"

She turns. Zuko stands there, looking at her. She reaches out and touches his sleeve as if to make sure he's real.

"You don't look so good," Zuko says, frowning.

"Zuko..."

"I'll get you some water." He turns and then suddenly reality crashes violently into Katara's mind. Until now it felt as though she was walking underwater, struggling to catch up to the world. Now she has surfaced, gasping for breath, into a terrible reality.

"Don't go anywhere!" She tightens her grip on his sleeve and yanks him towards her. "Don't move."

"What's wrong with you?" Zuko asks, giving her an odd look. It's only when she feels the gazes upon them that she realises she has been talking quite loudly, almost yelling. The Firebender tries to shrug her off but she won't let go.

"You could be in danger."

He pauses and glances around, surprise showing on his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"Just trust me, Zuko. We need to leave."

"I can't leave yet. Besides, I've got to find Mai. I'll be back in –"

"No. I'm coming with you."

Zuko gazes at her for a long moment.

"What's going on?" he asks.

"Somebody told me you're in danger." Katara closes her eyes, struggling to think calmly and quickly. "But I'm going to make sure nothing happens. We'll go find Mai. She has her blades, right? We'll stick together. Promise. We won't leave you alone for a second."

"I don't need –"

"It's what friends do. We stick together."

He looks at her for a moment, then nods. They walk through the plaza, Katara one step behind Zuko. She notes his tense shoulders and the way he glances around and is grateful he's taking her warning seriously.

"Ah, my Lord."

It's the advisor. Katara steps up next to Zuko, standing so close to him she can feel the heat emanating from his body. She watches the advisor talk, watches his little pointed smile and sharp eyes before glancing down, catching the shine of metal for a moment. A small sword.

How can something so small and simple end the life of the teenager standing by her side? She has to distract the advisor, get him away from everyone.

She speaks. The advisor stares at her with an unreadable expression. Zuko is confused.

"Pardon?" the advisor says.

"I said, I'd like to talk about the Southern Water tribe reparations," Katara repeats.

"Well, it is understood that damage has been minimal," the advisor begins, sneering. "We have discussed monetary compensations with their chief –"

"My father, Hakoda."

The advisor pauses and looks at her in surprise, some of his disdain disappearing.

"I'd like to hear about the compensations," Katara says, moving away from Zuko in hopes the advisor will follow. He does so reluctantly, lantern light glinting from his sword.

"Of course. The chief's daughter is a diplomatic guest and I shall be happy to discuss any Southern Water Tribe and Fire Nation relations." The advisor is all smooth smiles now, a complete change from his children-must-be-seen-and-not-heard attitude. Katara can't waste time getting annoyed about it though. She returns the advisor's smile and leads him away.

"Katara? I thought we were going to stick together."

She looks over her shoulder at Zuko. He stands alone underneath the cold light of a blue lantern.

"I'm a little busy now," she says, forcing a smile and trying to widen the distance between the advisor and Zuko.

"But –"

"Not now. This is important, Zuko."

She turns her back on him, trying to ignore the guilt shadowing her heart as an expression of hurt and confusion passes over Zuko's face. He'll understand later, when she has the chance to explain.

"As you were saying?" she prompts the advisor, trying to lead them away from the crowd where she can disarm him without the risk of others getting involved and possibly hurt.

"The Southern Water tribe has been quite cooperative and has accepted a generous sum of gold." The advisor twists around as he speaks, as if searching for Zuko. "If that is all, I must really return to my duties..."

"Zuko doesn't need a babysitter." Katara's eyes dart to the sword and she desperately wishes she had brought her water flask, regardless of the dress code. "Maybe you should leave him alone." She doesn't bother to veil the threat.

The advisor's mouth tightens.

And then silence falls. It's a very sudden sort of silence, the air heavy with it. Both Katara and the advisor turn to see a crowd beginning to form.

For a moment her world spins. She's not even aware she's running until she's in the midst of the crowd, pushing through. The women are pale-faced now, the men's mouths pulled back into grimaces of horror. A woman is holding a bejewelled hand to her mouth, as though the entire scene is a dramatic opera. Katara feels the irrational desire to slap her.

The Waterbender finally pushes through the circle.

Zuko is on his knees; he sways for a delicate second before he falls forwards, his hand relaxing around a wineglass as it shatters on impact. It's the only noise. The red wine seeps into the cracks of the stones, a strange and foreign blood in veins of rock.

Katara looks up slowly.

The wine server meets the Waterbender's gaze, her eyes glittering with triumph.


	5. Chapter 5

Katara races towards Zuko, half-falling to her knees as she stretches her hands out towards him. His eyes are open, the pupils strangely dilated. A woman nearby starts screaming, her words echoing long after the desperate noise has stopped. _He's dead!_

Katara ignores the chaos around her. She ignores the shouting and she ignores the men unsheathing their swords. She ignores the servants rising to fight, all of them revolutionaries. She ignores the smell of smoke, the ringing of metal meeting metal, the wild screams.

There's only Zuko lying still and silent on cold stone, his eyes gazing to the stars beyond her. Katara presses her hand to his chest; it rises and falls rapidly beneath her palm, his heart beating quickly. He's alive. But when she closes her eyes and concentrates, she can feel the poison. It's a dark shadow seeping throughout his body.

"Can you save him?"

She looks up. The air is thick with smoke. Flames dance along lines of lanterns and all she can see is a silhouette outlined with flickering light, smoke hazing across their face.

For a moment she can't answer, her mind still black from shock. Then the horrible realisation dawns. She doesn't know. She doesn't know if she can save him. Yes? No?

"Water," she says at last, her fingers digging into Zuko's shoulder as though daring death to try and steal him from her hands."I need water!" Her voice rises with desperation as she realises the truth: Zuko is dying and she might not be able to save him.

"I'll find some."

The silhouette leaves, disappearing back into the smoke. The screams are distant now but around her, she can still hear footsteps hurrying along. Occasionally there's a low groaning noise. Somebody's crying nearby, an endless sort of wailing relentless in its hurt and despair.

Zuko's heartbeat is getting quicker and quicker – and then it stops.

Katara fumbles with his tunic for a moment before managing to slide her hands beneath it. She presses her palms to his chest. No, his heart beats again. But as she concentrates, she feels his heart skip another beat. And another. Beneath her hands his heartbeat grows weaker and more irregular.

Katara glances over her shoulder. She can't see anything but the haze of smoke, the dull flicker of flames, the dark shadows of people lying on the ground nearby. The crying has stopped but somebody's whispering.

It's her, she realises. She's murmuring prayers to the Water Tribe spirits.

The moon shines overhead, full and heavy in the early night. Katara stares at it for a moment.

Zuko's heart misses a beat. Katara's own heart seems to hang in eternity, waiting for the next beat under her fingers.

She can't wait any longer.

"Zuko, I'm so sorry," she whispers, closing her eyes and calling on the strength of the moon for a moment. She can feel the shadow, thick and heavy now as it rushes through Zuko's veins and surrounds his heart. For a moment, silence surrounds them.

And then Zuko lets out an agonising scream.

"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry..." Katara whispers as she moves her hands slowly but purposefully, forcing the poisoned blood to stop and reverse its direction. She doesn't have time to try and sense the natural path of the blood; instead she simply forces it upwards by any means. She moves her hands painfully slowly along Zuko's chest, then his throat, and then, finally, a long dark ribbon of blood and poison unfurls from his lips and follows Katara's hands. She throws it quickly from her, letting it splash over distant stones.

"Zuko?" Katara leans over him, waiting, watching desperately for anything. She can still feel the dark echo of poison within him, traces that she can't remove completely unless she takes even more blood out. She places one hand on his chest, becoming weak with relief when she finds his heartbeat.

She calls his name again and he doesn't answer, although his eyes slowly close.

"Here's the water."

Katara starts; she hadn't noticed the reappearance of the helpful stranger. She accepts the offered cup of water, allowing the cool liquid to cover her hands.

"We must move. We're not safe here. They will come searching for his body soon, to display it like a trophy."

The voice is hauntingly familiar. Katara frowns.

"I got most of the poison out but he's still sick." She pauses to cough, the smoke irritating her throat. The mysterious person kneels opposite her.

"We can both carry his Lordship."

Katara stares in disbelief at the advisor.

* * *

The roaring, the roaring ocean sound.

And then the pulse of a thousand drumbeats, echoing through the long stone corridors.

Then comes the smell, the smell of burning flesh and in the darkness, Azula can almost taste the sharp metallic tang of blood.

And then the pulse sharpens into individual footsteps, and the roaring brightens the walls with flame, and the screams of other prisoners echo. They howl like dogs and throw themselves at the cell bars in an anticipatory frenzy. They scream and groan and laugh like hyena-jackals.

Azula simply waits.

The footsteps slam down into stone. They began with a march of unity but now they've splintered into deranged chaos, running everywhere as the voices rise and fall uncontrollably. Some of them sing. Others chant, drawing the words out like a particularly bloodthirsty treat.

"Feed the fire, fan the flames, tonight the traitors burn alive..."

Azula stretches a hand through her tiny window.

Her invisible roses.

* * *

Katara and the advisor struggle out of the plaza. Tears run down the Waterbender's face; the smoke feels as though somebody has thrown sand into her eyes. Next to her, the advisor talks between breaths.

"I was an informant for General Iroh. I was inside the revolutionary ring and passed information onto him. I received a tip that the assassination attempt was going to occur directly after the summer storms, but clearly they were suspicious and gave me false information."

"Can we stop here?" Katara pants, barely taking in any of the advisor's explanations. He's helping her and that's all that matters. All she wants to do is stop and heal Zuko.

"No. We are still in a dangerous area," the advisor snaps. "We may stop at the harbour. There is a ship there that had been prepared for General Iroh's journey to the Earth Kingdom, but he made alternate transport arrangements with the Avatar. The ship is still docked, however, and there will be medical supplies there."

"I don't need medical supplies, I can heal with my Waterbending – " Katara is cut off abruptly as the advisor steps away from her and she nearly falls as she is left alone to support Zuko's weight. A word forms on her lips but never quite makes it; a long whip of fire sears towards the advisor as his opponent steps from the shadows: the wine server.

"Leave!" the advisor shouts to Katara, barely summoning a fireball in time to deflect the whip. "Go! His Lordship's life is worth more than mine!"

His opponent laughs and issues continuous walls of flame from her fists, grinning wildly as the advisor deflects the raging fire with his own shield of flames.

"The Fire Lord is dead!" The woman easily sidesteps a ball of fire.

"I beg to differ." The advisor is startled by a more intense wall of fire; he manages to deflect it weakly with his own wave of flame. "He lives. Your revolution is a lie."

The woman's attacks weaken slightly as her gaze slides over to Zuko.

"He drank nearly a whole cup of the Yin and Yang poison," the woman says although doubt shadows her words. "He should be dead!"

The advisor turns to Katara. His face, for the first time, shows real emotion. He has a look of intense urgency and wild desperation in his eyes.

"The poison – was it black?"

"Yes," Katara replies, her eyes widening.

"The antidote, it's a white rose." The advisor is cut off as a ball of flame sizzles past him and sears its way towards Katara. She only just dodges out of its way and the advisor makes a sheet of flame spring up between them and their opponent, trying to block any further attempts on Zuko's life. "White roses have not been cultivated in the Fire Nation capital for years, but you _must_ find one within the hour," the advisor calls to Katara. His sheet of flame flickers and dies for a moment.

He pays dearly for his moment of weakness. A great blast of flames sweeps him off his feet and he tumbles backwards, his head slamming into the cobblestones.

"Run," the advisor mutters hoarsely.

Katara pauses for a moment. Zuko is still and silent, leaning heavily on her. His eyes are closed.

The woman steps over the advisor's body, her eyes trained on Zuko.

Katara turns and flees into darkness.

* * *

A wave of silence spreads as the crowd assembles before Azula's cell. The guard's lifeless body lies in the corner, the smell of charred flesh filling the area. Most of the people hold weapons. Some are makeshift, pikes made of sharpened farm tool handles. Others are more professional; swords and spears gleam in the handfuls of flames that Firebenders hold aloft. One man even has a crate of blasting jelly.

Next to Azula's cell, a tall man gestures grandly.

"In our great spirit of generosity and mercy, I welcome you to the trial of the Crown Princess Azula!"

A cheer rises. The man waits, smiling, his arm still outstretched as though he's presenting a magic trick.

"Yes! Let it never be said that that we were unkind or unfair! No! For here begins a new reign, a reign of equality and justice!"

Another cheer. Azula sits silently in the middle of her cell, her head bowed.

"Now, if I may present to the people's court: Crown Princess Azula of the Fire Nation, charged with the following crimes." The man pauses and clears his throat, unravelling a long scroll and flourishing a stylus. People cheer and jeer loudly, shifting restlessly. The scent of blood is in the air. The promise of violence is a tantalising treat. The man begins listing the crimes with a strangely theatrical air.

"Participation in a common conspiracy for the accomplishment of a crime against peace; planning wars of aggression and other crimes against peace; oppositional state crimes of dissent, subversion and incitement of discontent to lawful authority; high treason to the Fire Nation; seditious conspiracy and the assassination of Fire Lord Zuko. How do you plead?"

The silence is thick and heavy in the air. Azula doesn't speak. She simply continues to stare at the stone floor before her. The crowd shifts restlessly and at last one of them shouts out.

"Kill her!"

"Kill the traitor!"

"Burn her alive!"

They scream and shout and those with weapons leap forwards as the Firebenders raise their fists, aiming for Azula's calm face.

"Stop! Silence!"

The crowd subsides momentarily as the tall man sweeps his arms outwards.

"Remember, we are not barbarians! We are good people, fair people! We will give the defendant a chance to plead her case." He thrusts an accusatory finger towards Azula. "You may speak in your defence. We will listen," he adds with an air of sanctimonious generosity.

Once again, silence reigns. Azula stares somewhere beyond him, as though an invisible but beautiful view stretches on forever.

"Your silence is an admission of your guilt," the man says loudly. "Confess now or submit to further interrogation." He waves the scroll around, turning to gaze upon the crowd as he addresses Azula. "A simple signature and you may be spared – "

Something catches his attention. The crowd is backing away slightly. He turns back around.

Azula stands behind him. Between the bars of her cell, her outstretched hand awaits.

Slowly, with confused disbelief, he lets her tug the scroll and stylus from his hand. Nobody moves; the entire crowd seems to be holding a collective breath. The only sound is the quiet scratching of the stylus on paper.

And then Azula hands it back.

"A full confession," the man says, recovering quickly. "The defendant is found guilty! What is the punishment, jurors? What do we do to traitors and murderers?"

"_Kill them!_" The crowd surges forward, faces pulled back into snarls as they lift their weapons. The Firebenders leap towards Azula.

She smiles.

* * *

Zuko stirs but doesn't open his eyes.

Katara takes a breath, closes her eyes and tries again. Her hands rest lightly upon his chest as she huddles further into the shadows of a shop doorway. In the distance, she can hear marching and shouting. Along the streets, torn flags and dropped banners have been set on fire, their flickering flames illuminating the scene. Somebody runs past, their boots stumbling over stones.

"Come on," Katara whispers under her breath, pleading with the Spirits as her water-soaked hands try yet again to heal Zuko. Again, he stirs but Katara can tell no effect has been made. The traces of poison within seem utterly unaffected by her healing.

The Yin and Yang poison. Katara has never heard of it.

_The antidote, it's a white rose._

But the advisor said white roses had not been cultivated for years in the Fire Nation. How is Katara supposed to find a non-existent flower within the hour? How is she supposed to find an...an invisible rose?

Katara stares down at Zuko, although it's not him she's seeing. No; she's seeing someone similar but very different, a familiar face yet a complete stranger...

"Zuko?" she whispers, just in case he can somehow hear her words. "I have to go. I promise I'll be back."

She stands up, waiting in the shadows of the doorway and listening for any footsteps. When there are none, she steps out, glances around and races along the street.

* * *

The moonlight filters through ragged clouds, shifting and changing like filtered silk. Azula gazes up at the night sky. It's broken up into simple pieces through her grille, reminding her of a broken mirror.

Azula does not like mirrors.

The man behind her is saying something. Azula ignores him and thinks about her rose. She wants to keep it but at the same time she doesn't, for it's as white and full as the moon above and Azula hates the moon. It's pale and cold and relentless in its stare, a large filmy eye gazing at her.

She turns around slowly and walks up to the man, the tall man who hides behind big words and big gestures. He doesn't scare her. Azula knows all about big words.

She takes his bit of paper and writes one of these big words upon it. The man holds it aloft like a trophy. Azula turns away from him momentarily, to cross back to her grille and gaze upon her rose.

It used to mean something to her but she's not quite sure what. Thinking about it makes the white rage come to her, the rage that makes her forget and scorches the air like an uncontrollable wildfire.

"_Kill them_!"

Azula turns to the men and grins. What would they know of death? Azula knows all about it. She has seen the snarl of death upon faces, seen the way their hands always seize up as though they're reaching for something, trying to hold onto something that no longer exists.

A petal wilts from her rose. In some ways, she suspects she's already dead.

Sometimes destroying everything seems like the best option.

* * *

Katara races the rest of the way to the prison, clutching a stitch in her side and gasping. When she arrives at the building she is taken aback by the complete lack of light. At first she runs past the abandoned gates, the unmanned watch towers, the empty guard rooms. But as she continues on, her pace slows. Something is wrong. She can smell something strange, an awful acrid reek. Smoke curls lazily from a slightly-open door. Within, all is black. Katara hurries past it without looking in.

At the door to the high-security cells, Katara pauses for a moment and stares into the dark, dank hallway. She waits, expecting a voice to call out, for eyes to shine in the darkness. But there's nothing. The rows of cell remain cloaked in shadows and deathly silence. The acrid smell is at its strongest here and Katara draws shallow breaths. She steps forward. Ahead of her, something is protruding from a cell, lying on the ground. She squints at it.

It's a hand.

Or at least, it used to be one.

Katara takes another step forward, forcing herself to keep going. _Think of Zuko...he'll die if you turn back now..._

She doesn't look down again but instead keeps her eyes trained ahead. The end of the corridor turns sharply before continuing on to the solitary confinement cell. Katara wonders if her eyes are playing tricks on her; every now and again she thinks she can hear a distant voice or see a very dull light shining just around the corner ahead. Gradually, the voice gets more distinct and Katara realises, with a sinking heart, that she isn't imagining things. Somebody is here with Azula.

She stops as she reaches the corner and waits for a moment, sparing precious seconds. The voice is clearer now and Katara just knows, somehow, there's a lot more than one person in there. The voice isn't echoing like it should in an empty room.

"...the punishment, jurors? What do we do to traitors and murderers?"

_What is going_ on_ in there?_ Katara doesn't have time to expand more upon that thought, however, as the next second a great shout rings out across the corridors.

"_Kill them!_"

Her feet seem to move of their own accord as Katara races around the corner.

* * *

The flames roar towards Azula as she stands alone in her cell.

She laughs and places one foot forward, pulling her left arm back as though she's about to fire an arrow. Two extended fingers point neatly not at the tall man, not at the raging Firebenders, not at the seething crowd, not at the Waterbender skidding around the corner.

No; her fingertips point directly at the crate of blasting jelly.

Opposite her, the tall man's eyes widen.

"No – wait – "

But Azula has never hesitated in her life, and she has no intention of starting now.

* * *

Katara is thrown backwards by the blast; her head slams into stone and for a moment her whole world is black. Colours spark and pop before her eyes and there's a roaring in her ears, but she is dimly aware that she's still alive and still conscious. The second thing she becomes aware of is pain, pain that is quickly intensifying across her legs. Flames dance over her dress and she manages to pat them out, her vision still dim and her world tilting like a ship in a storm.

For a moment, Katara lies completely still, giving herself a moment to clench her teeth against the pain echoing throughout her body. Her head throbs as she manages to stand up, swaying slightly for a moment before her world rights itself.

Around her, all is silent. Smoke is heavy in the air and Katara is grateful, grateful she can't see the bodies and carnage. She places a hand to the wall and edges around slowly until her hand touches the hot metal bars of Azula's cell.

"A-Azula?" Katara coughs, the smoke irritating her throat. There's a pause before Azula steps forward,illuminated by the flames burning beyond her cell. Protected by her own cage, she is completely unscathed. "Azula, you said you have roses." Katara closes her eyes for a moment. She feels like she's living a dream, lost in desperate illusions. Of course there are no roses. Zuko will die.

She opens her eyes. Azula watches her without blinking, despite the smoke.

"If they exist," Katara says, "give one to me."

"Roses," Azula repeats, as though mimicking the Waterbender. "Roses." She is close now, so close that Katara can see the way her pupils contract slightly in the flickering firelight.

"They...they were white, right?" Katara asks, her mouth dry.

"Yes." Azula's expression is unreadable. "White as..."

There's a long pause. Katara waits.

"...lightning." Katara barely has time to register the words as a white-hot fireball sizzles past her. _Azula missed_, she thinks belatedly. But no. Azula never misses. Katara turns around slowly, a strong odour warning her of what she may see.

The man's charred body is sprawled right behind Katara, his eyes open, his mouth gaping. A long knife spins across the floor, coming to rest by the cell. Katara looks up and tries to meet Azula's eyes. The girl isn't looking at her, though; she's staring at her hand as though wondering exactly where the fire came from.

The Waterbender takes a step backwards. Azula still doesn't look up.

Katara glances towards the fallen man, an illogical fear telling her that he might get up again. After a few seconds she pushes away the worry and turns to glance at Azula, taking another step backwards.

"Give me the rose," she says to the other girl. "Show them to me. Prove they're real." _How strange_, the Waterbender thinks,_ that in the end it all comes down to these invisible roses._

Azula disappears back into the shadowy recesses of her cell for a moment. Katara wonders how long she's been here, wasting time with Azula while Zuko lies dying alone on a street somewhere.

And then Azula reappears, her fist closed. There's a long pause and then, slowly, she opens her hand. White petals bloom within. Katara reels as though somebody's just hit her with all their strength.

"They're real," Katara whispers. She reaches a hand through the bars but Azula steps away, her eyes darkening. Seconds tick by, seconds that Katara can't afford to waste. She meets Azula's eyes and sees the unspoken demand.

Her hatred of the girl increases tenfold as she sets to work destroying the lock on the cell door.

* * *

Azula steps outside of the prison and takes a deep breath. The night is still young. The air is fresh and clean. Above, the stars wink across the canvas of dark blue. The sky stretches on forever, past the shining moon, past the glittering constellations, past everything Azula has ever known.

Ahead of her, the ocean girl runs. She runs into the night, her hair flying behind her like ribbons, her dress torn and burned, and Azula wonders if she's just going to keep running until she meets the sea again.

But no. Azula follows her for a long time before the girl stops and kneels before a dark shadow in a small doorway_**.**_ She kneels there for a long time.

Azula stands alone in the shadows and waits.

* * *

Katara sits, white rose petals scattered around her as she counts the seconds away in her head, holding her breath as the last spark of hope dwindles in her heart.

And then he opens his eyes, blinking rapidly.

"Zuko?" Katara whispers, relief crashing through her like a tidal wave. He doesn't speak for a moment and instead just narrows his eyes, staring at her as though he's never seen her before. Then, at last, he speaks.

"Mai?"

Her heart sinks. A thousand awful possibilities run through her head. The poison's erased his memory, or made him confused, or he's just lost his mind completely...

"It's me, Katara," she says, trying to keep the worry from her voice. He blinks.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I can't...I can't see very well..." He frowns. Katara notices his pupils are still dilated. _Oh spirits...what if the poison has blinded him somehow...permanently...or..._

But she forces herself to think of the positive things. He's talking and at least he's not confused or suffering memory loss or –

"What's he doing here?"

"What?" Katara glances over her shoulder; the street, so far as she can see, is empty. "Who?"

"My father." Zuko struggles to sit up as Katara attempts to force him to lie down again.

"Zuko, there's nobody here. Just me and you," she says, trying to keep her voice calm.

But he ignores her, apparently determined to get up and challenge the imaginary Ozai to an Agni Kai. Katara bites her lip. She needs to get them out of here now. Zuko's not keeping his voice down and if they're not careful, somebody will find them and...

Katara doesn't finish that thought. She speaks quietly to Zuko instead.

"Zuko? Your father's gone. Didn't you see? He went that way." Katara points to the harbour, feeling guilty. "We have to follow him. Come on."

Zuko gets to his feet, swaying dangerously; Katara quickly steadies him and tries, quite unsuccessfully, to lead him northwards. Zuko walks slowly, pausing often to stare over his shoulder.

"Azula's following us. She's following us."

"Okay, sure," Katara says impatiently, placing a hand against Zuko's back and trying to push him onwards. He resists, choosing to turn around instead.

"You go ahead. I've got to fight Azula."

Katara grits her teeth, trying to keep her voice level and measured.

"Zuko. I don't think you should fight Azula right now. You're very sick."

Zuko glances at her and then does a double take.

"That's a good idea," he says, "but we'll need more than two fire-horses."

"Oh, for the love of La..." Katara closes her eyes for a moment before opening them, keeping a strong grip on Zuko as she does. She doesn't trust him at all. She watches Zuko's eyes track something invisible; apparently it flies past them and down the dark street. Katara points after it. "Zuko, shouldn't we go after them?" She hopes that 'them' broadly translates to whatever hallucination Zuko is currently suffering through.

It works. He nods and steps forwards, nearly falling over. Katara grabs him and wraps an arm around his waist, trying to keep him steady as he stumbles onwards, half-blind and delusional.

"It's okay," she says. "We'll go together."

As the two figures struggle towards the dark ocean, the Fire Nation capital brightens as fires spark and spread.

Neither Katara nor Zuko look back.

* * *

Azula runs. She races, she sprints, she throws herself out into the world in a glorious explosion of senses. The smooth stones beneath her feet, the air rushing through her hair, the smoke stinging her eyes, her nation mapped out before her.

She doesn't allow herself a moment to think about her next action. The water is coming for her again...

She leaps from the end of a pier and for a moment she's outlined against the moon, a perfect silhouette of balance, grace and perfection.

Then she smashes into the water, into the dark depths of mystery, and she can't see or feel or hear anything now. She fights wildly for a moment before conquering the fear and surfacing at last. Water cascades from her clothes and streams along her dark hair as she swiftly climbs up the moorings and aboard the ship. The ocean girl has already taken Azula's brother aboard. The deck is empty. Azula touches a hand to the cold metal.

She walks slowly to the bow and balances delicately on the very point of it, and between sky and sea there it is, her country. It's ablaze with a thousand lights, a thousand fires.

There's a sudden boom overhead; thunder prowls and growls along the sky like a wolf on the hunt. Lightning splinters across the sky. There's a small pause, as though the world is taking a deep breath, and then there's the rushing sound of rain.

The summer storms have come early. The heat has broken.

Azula faces her nation and takes a bow.

* * *

The man stands upon the pedestal.

"My fellow patriots," he says, and a great cheer rises. "I bring you unfortunate news. An event of monumental tragedy has occurred tonight. Our Fire Lord has been assassinated."

There's silence.

"The Fire Nation will not tolerate this treason," he says. "The Crown Princess Azula has already confessed to planning and conducting the assassination. We have caught the assassins and they will be executed at dawn."

On the speaker's left, men murmur amongst themselves.

"I thought we agreed not to kill the scapegoats."

"Does it make a difference? Nobody will miss them, they're only peasants."

The man on the pedestal continues to speak, the crowd waiting expectantly. The men mutter amongst themselves again as the crowd cheers.

"We didn't find the Fire Lord's body."

"He's dead. There's only one antidote, and nobody's grown it for years."

"Our entire prison sector has been found dead," the man persists. "No sign of the princess."

The other man finally gives the protestor his full attention, casting a scathing stare at him. The man recoils.

"You sound like you're having some serious doubts about our plans. Is there something I should know about? Has something given you reason to have second thoughts?"

"No! No, not at all."

"Good." The man turns to gaze back upon the cheering crowd. "Give my regards to your wife and son."

The other man shivers slightly.

* * *

In contrast to the scene at the capital, the harbour remains surrounded by silent darkness.

The rows of boats and buoys bob on the water. The larger ships loom silently. The piers creak as waves slap against their supports.

A long rasping noise breaks the quiet night. It continues for some time, working up into a cacophony of grating and screeching.

Katara wishes she wasn't causing such a noise. She breathes a sigh of relief when, at last, the anchor is winched all the way up. But now she faces a bigger problem: the engines. Zuko isn't being helpful at all. Fretful from hallucinations and barely able to register anything she says, he's proven incapable of offering her any information.

Katara sighs and, standing on the deck as the rain falls around her, raises her aching arms to Waterbend the waves with the ship. It moves with painful slowness and by the time Katara feels they have moved out of dangerous waters she is exhausted, the full moon having begun its descent and taken much of her power with it.

But even now, she cannot sleep.

Instead, she goes to the cabin where Zuko paces, gesturing at somebody invisible and ignoring Katara. At last she manages to convince him to lie down and rest, but even then it's a while before he falls into a fitful and restless sleep.

She sits by his side until dawn, placing healing hands upon his feverish forehead, until his breathing evens at long last and she can tell he's fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.

And within moments of finding a bed for herself, Katara too is lulled into sleep as the rain patters overhead and washes away the remnants of the night.


	6. Chapter 6

"The essence of humanity is belonging."

He's sitting in his childhood classroom, his governess pacing before him. Next to him, Azula is sitting attentively. There is a warm, mild spring breeze weaving through the open doors.

"The motivation for any human behaviour," the woman continues, "is belonging, no matter what the action. Everything we do is because we feel the need to belong."

The woman paces the length of the room. Azula is still sitting upright, hands folded in her lap, her gaze following the teacher. She says something out of the corner of her mouth. His name.

"Zuko."

"What?" he whispers back.

"Does it hurt?"

"Does what hurt?"

"The lightning."

The teacher drones on in the background, gazing out the doors and into the garden as she speaks. Zuko turns to look at Azula.

"Only for a while," he says.

"Then I suppose," Azula replies, "there's nothing to be afraid of."

"No," Zuko says slowly. "I suppose not."

The teacher resumes her pacing, turning away to the view to continue the lesson.

"This desire to belong," she says, "is a basic human of punishments in the ancient times. Placing somebody in the stocks, or branding their forehead. The punishment was not the pain, but the humiliation. And what is humiliation? It is a sense of not belonging. It is everybody recognising that you do not belong, you are not one of them. Not belonging is the ultimate punishment."

The woman stops. A drop of water falls upon her hair. She looks up before continuing.

"Children, from a very young age," the teacher says, "will often instinctively bully those who are different in some way. Children have quite a natural desire to punish people for not belonging."

The woman stops. Another drop falls upon her shoulder.

"Everything we do, all we want, is to belong."

Another drop. A trickle.

"Zuko, are you listening?"

The entire ceiling collapses under the weight of the water, roaring down upon them all. And just before the torrent of water smashes upon them, Azula turns to him.

"Zuko."

"What?"

"Wake up."

* * *

He opens his eyes slowly and blinks once or twice. There's water. Not a torrent, but he can hear it surrounding him. The lullaby of rain dancing across metal. The slap of waves against the walls.

He sits up and notices his sister. She is examining a Fire Nation banner, running her fingers over the golden threads of the insignia. He wonders if he has woken into another dream.

"Azula?"

She doesn't look at him, only digs a fingernail into the banner so that the golden threads come loose and fall away.

"Aren't you in prison?" Zuko tries to sort through the muddled and distant memories.

Azula winds the thread around her fingers.

"Are we on a ship?" His mind finally catches up to his body.

"The tides...the tides have already made up their own minds," she says in a strange voice, as though repeating words she heard somebody else say once, long ago.

Zuko stares at her, wondering if she's about to send a bolt of lightning through his heart or drop another non sequitur into his head. He's not sure which he'd prefer.

Azula saves him the decision by turning abruptly and leaving. Apparently she encounters somebody in the corridor, for a brief and one-sided conversation takes place.

"What are you doing hanging around here?" an extraordinarily suspicious voice says. It sounds awfully familiar and Zuko has the feeling that the voice usually talks to him in that tone too.

There's a small silence but Azula doesn't speak.

"You better not have done anything to him," the voice continues mistrustfully. "I'm warning you. One false move and I'll turn you into a glacier again."

There's a brief pattering of footsteps, and then Katara comes through the doorway into the cabin. She glances at him, then does a double take and stops.

"Oh," she says uncertainly, "you're awake."

"Yeah." Zuko sits up straighter and winces. "What's going on?"

"Oh," Katara says. Just that. _Oh._

They look at each other.

* * *

The rain.

It's a song in her heart. It's a lullaby that soothes her weary head.

Katara sits silently, her face bathed in soft lamplight. The rain dances across the deck above. She studies Zuko's face. He fell asleep shortly after she'd told him everything. It unnerves her to see him like this - completely unguarded. He knows she's there, but he's too tired to care. Sleep reigns over his body.

She wonders what he dreams about.

There's a sound somewhere on the ship - a door closing, perhaps. Katara sighs. There's another enigma. Azula. She'd turned up on the ship, refusing to say how she'd gotten there. And refusing to say anything else, for that matter. Katara had somehow expected her to return to her old self. As if her entire time in prison had just been an act. But Azula has gotten even more peculiar, if that was possible.

"Here I am," Katara whispers aloud, just to see how it sounds. "On a ship. With the prince and princess of the Fire Nation."

She sits there for a moment. The sentence sinks in.

Katara looks at the sleeping Firebender.

"Spirits, help me."

* * *

Azula thinks about lightning and water.

Both are blue, she muses, but there the similarities end. But if she half-closes her eyes, she can pretend the ship is just a great hulk of metal moving through waves of electricity, conducting the ocean of lightning.

Conducting. That is the difference between her and her brother. She never realised it until now. She creates lightning. He conducts it.

A blue flame springs up in her palm.

She was always set to self-destruct.

* * *

He wakes momentarily.

"What are you doing?" The words are mumbled drowsily.

"Making sure you get better." Katara meets his gaze and it's an oddly intimate moment; they are the only ones in the lamplit room. All is silent except for the patter of nighttime rain. Her hands rest on his chest, brushing against the scars Azula gave him.

The water seeps into his skin. Katara feels his heartbeat, slow but steady. She concentrates on the healing process, keeping her hands cool against the heat of his skin.

She thinks he's asleep again, but he speaks one last time, murmuring the words in a sleepy haze.

"You feel like the rain."

Startled by his words, Katara focuses on the feeling of his heartbeat against her palm.

* * *

They need to go somewhere.

Katara sits alone in the captain's cabin, surrounded by maps. She traces the lines of the lands, the jagged headlands, the curving rivers.

Is this how Zuko felt, when he was first set adrift on a pointless search? Where to start? Where to go? It all seems so overwhelming.

Well, she supposes that they can't return to the Fire Nation. She could always return to her homeland, but that would be selfish. She couldn't take two Firebenders to a world of ice and snow. Particularly when both of the Firebenders had terrorised her people at one point or another.

"I guess it's the Earth Kingdom, then," Katara mutters. Aang said something about travelling there. Now she remembers. Iroh, that's right - and Ba Sing Se. Perhaps they are already there, waiting for them to arrive.

Okay, so Ba Sing Se it is. She just has to find out their coordinates, then how to get to Ba Sing Se, and somehow make sure they follow the path.

The Waterbender sighs. She can finally appreciate, now, the epic journey undertaken by Zuko.

She hopes he gets better soon. He hasn't woken since last night, despite Katara checking on him every few hours. He's still running a temperature - unless Firebenders are always that warm.

She gazes down at the maps again, then rolls them up briskly and leaves.

* * *

Azula wakes from her dream of suffocation and ice. Always the same dream. The girl with the ocean-eyes, staring at her. The realisation.

_I lost._

What did she lose again? She thinks about it, her fingers dancing absently along the maps. She lost - somebody. A woman, with long black hair. Who was she? She always had cool, cool hands when the fever hit...

And the boy. The one with the same hair as her, the same eyes. Azula traces the outline of her left eye. She lost him too.

But that's alright, because she went and got him back again.

She sits up straight and turns another page.

Perhaps - if she gets the woman back as well - she'll remember everything again. She'll collect all the people back again, and then she'll be perfect, and strong, and set the world on fire -

The stylus slips and punctures the map.

* * *

Katara frowns, staring up at the stars.

There's Agni's Arrow, over there, so that must be north...she rotates slowly until she's facing north.

"And there's the Warrior's Way," she mutters, pointing up at the star formation. "So that must mean we're going...south-east."

She needs the maps again. The Waterbender glances at the steering room, then does a double take. A soft glow comes from the window.

_Light?_

_Is that...fire?_

She races to the steering room, dreading the possibilities - Azula setting the ship on fire, or destroying all the maps, or -

By the time she's skidded to a stop in the doorway, the room is empty. But the maps have been moved, and the lantern is still warm. The stylus rests in a splash of ink.

"What was she doing?" mutters Katara, frowning and approaching the desk. There. One map is lying across the pile, a wide brushstroke circling a dot.

The Waterbender frowns and takes a closer look at the dot. It's a village, in the southern Earth Kingdom.

Her finger underlines the name.

_Sun._

* * *

Zuko ventures to the deck for the first time since he awoke. Katara has been trying to keep any sensitive topics to a minimum, hoping to avoid any upset while Zuko's still recovering.

But, despite her best efforts, they have an argument.

It starts with Azula. Katara makes an offhand comment about her odd behaviour.

"We should be ready in case anything happens," Zuko replies, watching his sister with narrowed eyes. Across the deck, she trails a hand along the railing and stares out to sea.

"Like what?" Katara prompts.

"I don't know. It's Azula. She could do anything."

"I don't think she's dangerous at the moment," Katara counters, missing the disbelief in Zuko's face. "I mean, she hasn't done anything since we left."

"She's crazy," he says flatly. "She could kill us in our sleep."

"Yes, but I don't think she's going to do anything - "

"Of course not! Because any second she'll change, right? You'll be best friends and she'll never hurt anyone ever again and we'll all be happy!"

Startled by the flash of sudden anger, Katara stares at him, her throat tight, her teeth clenched, unable to speak for a moment.

"Don't you get it? She'll never change. Nothing ever changes." Zuko turns away from her.

"That's not true," she says hotly. "_You've_ changed."

"No, I haven't. I'm back on a stupid ship, right where I was four years ago." Suddenly, he reaches into his pocket and withdraws his headpiece. Katara watches silently as he closes his fist around it and raises his arm, throwing the headpiece as far as he can. It arcs through the air, glinting in the sun, and then the sea swallows it up with smallest of sounds and it is gone.

She bites her lip and looks away.

* * *

Katara wakes on the wrong side of midnight. She wakes abruptly, eyes snapping open, and she wonders if she was dreaming.

All is dark.

The air is cool but not chilly as she slowly dresses, feeling caught in an abstract moment, as though the spirits are hurriedly colouring in the dawn sky as she rises.

Her feet touch the cool metal. She makes her way towards the deck and looks out across the world. The helm is empty but when she touches it, it's not as cold as she expected. Zuko must be nearby.

Katara stands alone, pinned between night and day. The sky is a dark blue, the stars beginning to fade. Far away, across the horizon, a finger-smudge of blue is appearing and the sky lightens, just a little. There is something heavy in the air. The smell of rain.

Katara closes her eyes and breathes in the sharp sea air, unaware that she is not alone on the deck until she hears a voice.

She opens her eyes and looks around, realising Azula is just behind the bulkhead, nearly out of sight. The girl is staring intently at the waves, her hair fanning out in the dawn breeze. At first Katara assumes she is alone, until she hears Zuko's voice.

The Waterbender takes a step closer.

* * *

He stands out of sight of the Waterbender, unaware of her presence. Azula stands on the starboard side, gazing over the railing at the cresting water below, watching the sea foam around them.

"Did you see our mother?"

She ignores the question. She always hated the ocean, the way the sea always swallowed everything up so hungrily. It was unpredictable, untouchable; her angry hands would pass through it like air, her lightning would simply disappear into dark depths and her fire would skim across it like an arrow whistling through air, never quite making impact.

Azula hates things she can't touch, things she can't strike.

And now Zu-Zu is here, asking stupid questions. He was always stupid, she remembers. Now he's older – when did that happen? – and still asking the same stupid questions about their mother.

Of course Azula sees her mother. She sees her everywhere, if she looks hard enough. The sun has her warmth, the moon has her loneliness, the night has her silence.

Silence. All those little silences.

She was once a daughter, and now she is not. She is a motherless child, daughter of love's bitter rage, sister of lightning and raging wildfire.

She stares into the sky. There are the stars, cold and white; there is the hateful moon.

"There's a storm coming." The blue-eyed girl walks to Zuko and touches his shoulder. Azula stares at her until the girl becomes aware of it and shifts uncomfortably. Good.

"I was hoping to avoid it," Zuko says.

Azula looks skyward as the thunder begins, a cacophony of roaring deep from the belly of the night; it becomes louder and louder until it ends in a tearing noise as though the sky is being ripped in two. Lightning splinters along the sky, vivid and electric blue. Azula feels a deep thrill of something run through her and she laughs long and loud, opening her arms and staring up as the onslaught of rain begins.

Behind her, in the darkness, the Waterbender stands spellbound.

"It's beautiful," she says.

Zuko is silent.


	7. Chapter 7

It rains throughout the night, relenting only slightly when dawn breaks. Katara spends the morning practising her Waterbending, watching the rain stream across the deck. In the afternoon, she explores the ship a little further.

"We don't get much rain at the South Pole," she tells Zuko, after finding him in the wheelhouse. He's rifling through scrolls and looking at various maps intently. "What are you looking for?"

"We should have passed a few islands by now, but we haven't. Where exactly did we go after leaving the harbour?"

"Straight ahead."

"For how long?"

"Until I couldn't Waterbend anymore," Katara snaps, annoyed with Zuko's tone. He pauses and looks up at her.

"I'm sure we'll figure it out," he says, his tone slightly softer as he consults a map of the Earth Kingdom. Katara lingers for a moment, curiosity overcoming her annoyance.

"What map are you looking for?" she asks.

"An oceanic one. I need to get onto the North-East Ember Current. From there, we can go directly to Ba Sing Se."

"Ba Sing Se?"

"Yes." Zuko unfurls a scroll and examines it. "I think I've found it." He stands and leaves, taking the map with him.

Katara waits a moment, then rifles through the maps until she finds the one she's looking for.

_Sun._

She stares at it, tapping a finger on the small dot and frowning, not moving even as the sun sets and the evening light dwindles. Across the desk, the names of villages and mountains blur into shadows. Noticing the last ray of daylight, she reaches for the lantern.

It lights itself.

She draws back, glancing around the room. Two eyes gleam from the shadows.

"Want to hear a song?" Azula asks, her voice clear and precise. For a moment she's the old Azula, not confused or rambling or disconnected from the world. Katara takes a step backwards. "My mother gave it to me," Azula continues, in that same hard, brittle voice.

"No thanks," Katara replies quickly. She's wondering if this new bright-eyed Azula is planning a series of deft Firebending moves and if so, when the first one will occur.

"Mothers give everything away." Azula spits out the last word.

"Your mother?" Katara asks, struck by the idea of Azula being someone's daughter. Somebody had raised her, loved her, left her.

"You always lied to me..." Azula turns her face away and Katara realises that the princess is no longer speaking to her, but to some invisible entity. "Leaving me roses and a lullaby. Like I'm a _child_." She pauses, and when she next speaks her voice is so filled with seething contempt that Katara steps away quickly. "But I'm not a child, am I? No. I'm a monster." She starts laughing quietly.

Katara leaves, unwilling to bear witness to the strange and violent workings of Azula's mind.

* * *

Later that night, Katara dreams. She's walking through a rose garden, smiling, watching dewy petals bend under the weight of rain. Overhead, a crescent moon glows.

Somebody is singing nearby. She follows the winding paths, lost in the heady aroma of blooming flowers.

"_Streams of sun suddenly swapped_

_For stars in skies silver-spun_

_Softly sweep the southern skies_

_And soar once around the sun..."_

She turns another corner. The path twists through the rosebushes. Who is singing? The voice is oddly familiar...

_Once around the sun..._

She wakes, sitting up abruptly, and immediately collides with Azula. She lets out a shout, scrambling away from the Firebender and clutching her head in pain.

"What...what are you doing in my room?" she groans, fumbling blindly for her water flask.

Azula laughs - almost giggles, really - as if she's a small child getting into trouble.

"I mean it," Katara says weakly, her anger dulled by pain. She uncaps her flask and applying the soothing water to her forehead, considering - just for a moment - whether to heal Azula's matching bruise. But she's disoriented and grumpy. It can be the price Azula pays for sneaking into people's rooms when they're asleep.

"What's going on?"

Katara turns to the doorway. She can only imagine how strange it looks to Zuko. His crazy sister, sitting on the Waterbender's bed, smiling away as if they're about to start chatting about boys and braiding each others' hair.

"Nothing. Azula is just trying to creep me out," she replies and, as if on cue, Azula jumps nimbly to her feet and laughs before pushing past Zuko. He watches her disappear down the passageway, looking puzzled.

"I thought I heard a shout," he says at last.

"You did. I woke up and she startled me." Katara touches her tender forehead and winces. "She was singing."

Zuko raises his eyebrows. Katara's not sure, but she's certain he's trying not to smile.

"Azula? Singing?"

"Yes. Something about stars...southern skies..." She neatly bends the water back into her flask. "The sun. That's right. Once around the sun." Katara shakes her head and smiles. "I thought she was crazy before, but..."

She trails off. Zuko is staring at her intently.

"What? What is it?"

He doesn't reply. He's not looking at her, she realises. He's looking through her. Remembering something. His eyes narrow slightly in concentration.

"It...sounds familiar," he says at last.

"Perhaps your mother used to sing it?" Katara suggests, watching his face carefully, knowing that it's a sensitive topic.

"Maybe." He shrugs and turns away, bidding her goodnight.

She listens to his footsteps fade away, then stands up. Making her way to the wheelhouse, she wishes she had taken a lantern. Her shins are doing a very good job of violently identifying every object in her path.

She steps into the wheelhouse, noticing the glow and wondering if she left a lantern light.

But no. Zuko glances up at her, an orb of flames resting in one hand.

His other hand is resting on the maps, a finger underlining one word.

_Sun._

* * *

It's an idea taped together with the broken memories of a delusional princess, an idea formed only on long-ago lullabies and coincidences on maps.

It feels like a beginning; a proper beginning. Katara feels as if they are standing on the edge of a cliff, about to take a deep breath and then jump.

She turns her head. A low hum has erupted beneath her feet.

Zuko climbs up the ladder and closes the engine-room hatch. Their eyes meet for a moment and she spots - for a fleeting second - her doubt reflected in his eyes.

She prays they've made the right decision.

* * *

They while away the evening in the wheelhouse, waiting for the stars to come out so they can confirm their direction. Katara discovers Iroh's Pai Sho set, match to Zuko's dismay.

"We could always have a music night instead," she says sweetly, and Zuko pales slightly before hurriedly agreeing that Pai Sho might be a very nice way to pass time, after all.

"What's wrong with music nights, anyway?" Katara asks, sliding a tile across the board. "I hear you're quite good with the tsungi horn."

Zuko groans and moves a tile. "I _knew_ I shouldn't have introduced you to my uncle."

"Aw, I think he's sweet."

"Try spending a year on a leaky boat with him."

Katara laughs and taps the board. "You can't do that move three times in a row."

"You're just annoyed because you're losing."

"But I'm winning," Katara protests, reaching for another Pai Sho tile.

"You mean I'm winning," Zuko counters.

"No, _I_ am."

They pause and stare, nonplussed, at the board.

"I thought whoever had the least tiles on the board was in the lead," Katara says.

"I thought the aim was to keep the most pieces on the board," Zuko retorts, stopping Katara as she raises her tile. "You can't move sideways!"

"What are you talking about? You did, last turn!"

"I moved diagonally, remember? Otherwise how else could I have captured your three gold lilies?"

"I don't know," Katara mutters suspiciously, "but I think you must have ch -"

"We agreed after the last incident that we wouldn't use that word," Zuko cuts in.

"Okay, okay." Katara cautiously pokes a tile forward. When Zuko doesn't say anything, she leaves it there and leans back. "Your turn."

Zuko wordlessly moves a tile. Katara gives a little sigh.

"What?" he says.

"I wouldn't make that move. I'm just saying."

"Why not?"

"I'm just saying," Katara repeats. "Maybe you want to try moving that piece over there instead."

"Don't patronise me!"

"I wasn't!"

"Yes, you were!"

They pause and in the silence, somebody starts giggling. They both turn angrily.

"Azula!"

"Go away," Katara orders hotly, grabbing her water flask. Azula just laughs harder. "I mean it!"

"Losing again," Azula says, grinning. "Always losing..."

Katara isn't sure who she's talking to, but she glares anyway.

"Who cares?" she snaps. "It's just a game. I don't care if I win or lose. The point is to have fun."

"Yes," Zuko says, standing up behind her. "Leave us alone."

Azula leaves, giggling, and Katara turns back to game, tucking her flask away.

"She's a nightmare," Zuko says, collecting the tiles. Katara laughs and joins him.

"So, no moving sideways, right? New rule."

"Unless you have the snapdragon," Zuko says, taking a tile.

"Fine, but the lotus tile means you can do anything."

"Unless it's countered by the cherry blossom."

"Which is useless if you're wearing red."

"Shouldn't we be writing these rules down?"

They look at each other and smile.

* * *

It's a quiet moment. Between the dark sky with its lashing rain and the ocean with its crashing waves, Azula hides.

Safe within the confines of soft blankets, she reads the maps as though they are stories. Here, a river tells her the history of the land. There, a mountain shows her why people endure.

She's seven years old again, reading tales in her bedroom. The adventures of faraway travellers, the romances of pretty girls, the amplitude of sweeping landscapes. Her mother will stop by and say her goodnight - _Azula, dear, you should sleep now_ - and kiss her forehead.

And if she closes her eyes and takes all the mirrors away, she can pretend she's seven years old again, hiding under the covers, hearing her mother's footsteps...

She falls asleep to the sound of rain.

* * *

Dawn is just a few hours away the bedraggled figure of a Waterbender flies into Zuko's cabin, shouting his name.

"What is it?" he demands, slightly alarmed.

"A storm!"

Zuko, long adjusted to the dark and violent nights of beating waves and lashing winds, slept with ease through the rocking of the ship and the howling of the wind. Katara, quite used to sleeping on a gliding bison or solid bed, is less calm.

"Okay, well, we'll navigate around it," he says, swinging his legs out of bed and listening for a moment as wind snarls at the hull and rain beats ceaselessly across the deck. It _does_ sound like quite a large storm. Both he and Katara jump when a long growl of thunder echoes through the heavens, growing louder and nearer.

"It sounds close," Katara says, attempting to keep the edginess from her voice. Zuko shrugs.

"It's okay. I'll go to the helm and steer around it."

"I can help," Katara says with determination, following him as he walks barefoot from his quarters and to the deck. As soon as he emerges he reels slightly, bumping into the girl behind him. The wind snatches wildly at anything, making his hair whip across his face and sea spray sting his eyes. The thunder has progressed from a growl to a full roar, raising hackled masses of clouds to the sky and becoming unbearably loud. Nearby, lightning flashes soundlessly, illuminating the scene in unworldly white.

"What direction – " Her sentence is broken off as the ship tilts unexpectedly to the right and she tumbles across the deck, skidding wildly for a moment before regaining her balance and swinging round to grab hold of the capstan. Zuko turns for a moment, as if to help her, but she calls across the deck.

"I'm fine!"

He shakes his head, shouting back at her. "Ship on the starboard bow!"

The warning takes a moment to sink in, but she is saved regardless by the fact she's still clinging to the capstan. Zuko, however, struggles as his bare feet slip on the sea-sloshed deck, the ship listing starboard. In a moment he slips, falling and not rising again as his head slams into the deck. Sea and rain sprays around him for a moment, and then Katara is on her feet and racing as best she can towards the wheelhouse.

And she can decipher Zuko's warning now: illuminated by the white-hot flashes of lightning, a ship is approaching them fast on their starboard side. Either they can't see Zuko's ship through the rain or they can't adjust their course. Either way, Katara has no time to dwell on the matter. She slips into the wheelhouse and steadies the helm, a thrill of nervous excitement coursing through her as she realises she's steering. The ship is actually turning and it's Katara who is making it do this.

"Come on," she whispers. The ship seems to turn so slowly that she thinks collision is inevitable but at last the two boats pass, gliding past each other. She thinks she can make out a pale face staring at her from the deck of the other ship but in a moment they are swallowed up and forgotten by the stormy darkness.

Katara turns back round just in time to see a wave crash over the deck. She glares at it, as though it's a personal challenge from the ocean, and bends the water back into the angry sea from whence it sprang.

The thunder is rolling away into the distance, although the rain still pelts down. Katara makes her way cautiously to Zuko, slipping every now and again on the darkly gleaming deck.

"Zuko?"

There's a faint, pinkish tinge below his head: blood, diluted by rain and seawater. She lifts his head gingerly and darts a hand through the torrential rain, the drops beading over her hands and forming a healing coat over her fingers.

"The trouble we get into," she sighs.

They remain on the deck for a while, the rain washing away the night.

* * *

Azula is being peculiar.

More so then usual, which Katara had previously thought impossible. She catches the girl giving Zuko long, sly looks; looks that far too uncomfortably resemble the girl's previous sanity, when she was as cold and calculating as a knife to the heart.

"Maybe she knows we've changed course for Sun," Katara suggests to Zuko over dinner one night (fish, as usual).

"She's probably happy we're falling for her plan," Zuko says, although his voice lacks any umbrage.

"Even if it's just a ploy, what could go wrong?" Katara asks. "We waste fuel and time. Nothing else."

"Fuel is expensive."

"You could probably steal some," Katara suggests. Zuko looks taken aback, as though Katara has just cursed loudly.

"That's a great idea," he says, recovering his composure. "We'll just head to the nearest port and steal a few tonnes of fuel."

Now it's Katara's turn to look surprised. To her annoyance she can't help but think sarcasm suits Zuko quite nicely.

"Well, I can use Waterbending to move if we really need to."

Zuko says nothing for a few seconds. Katara reaches out and touches his arm, frowning.

"Is everything alright?"

He nods but she just sighs.

"I know," she says after a second. "I wonder about it too."

He looks up at that, startled, and she continues.

"Why there's been nothing," she says quietly. "I keep looking for Appa or the shadow of a glider...even a messenger hawk. Even a ship, maybe, coming out from the Earth Kingdom to look for us."

For once, she has guessed correctly at his thoughts.

"You get used to it," he says. "After I was exiled, I kept expecting letters or messages...but after a year, I stopped." He pauses. "You get used to it," he says again.

"They're looking for us, Zuko. I just know it. Aang's your best friend." She hesitates and chews on her bottom lip. "He was always talking about you, at the palace. He was always looking forward to seeing you at the end of the day. And Iroh too, every time I saw him he asked about you."

Zuko nods and stands before leaving. It's only after Katara's been sitting alone for a while that she suddenly realises she's being watched.

"Azula."

The girl regards her with eyes like burning embers, then steps from the shadows and sits opposite her, eyeing the meal.

"I've left you a serving in the galley," Katara says guardedly. Azula doesn't move. Silence stretches out before the girl languidly moves, her arms spreading across the table, her head low, her eyes fixed upon the table.

It's a strangely poignant picture of the princess. For a moment she looks like a little girl falling asleep at dinner, her black hair fanning out across her back. Katara is compelled to reach out for a moment and touch it. Azula's hair is silken as soft fronds of seaweed, slipping through her fingers like black water.

Azula doesn't lift her head or move her eyes. Katara suddenly pulls her hand away, as if burned. Why did she do that? Maybe craziness is catching.

"Are you going to burn me again?" she asks the girl suspiciously. Azula doesn't reply, but a long and dangerously thin dagger of brilliant blue erupts from one finger. Slowly, a second appears. Then a third. Azula looks at her, tipping her face up and gazing through half-closed eyes at the Waterbender.

"Mother died."

"No she didn't," Katara snaps angrily. To her dismay, Zuko has reappeared, drawn by the commotion.

"Is Azula annoying you?" he asks sharply.

"No," Katara says quickly, mentally willing him to leave.

"Mother _did_ die," Azula says, her words cutting through the air like a sword. "She died alone."

Zuko's face whitens.

"You're lying," Katara retorts.

"All, all alone," Azula says in a little sing-song voice, watching her brother's face.

"Stop it," Katara says sharply.

"Poor little Zu-Zu, all alone..."

"Stop it!" The Waterbender raises a hand, waterless and shaking.

"What happened to your face? Did somebody burn it?" Azula asks Zuko, the words light and lilting, her eyes smiling. He raises a hand to his scar for a second; he's not shouting or angry or Firebending, just standing there pale and alone, and Azula sharpens her next words against the tense silence.

"She wouldn't recognise your face. She'd call you a stranger."

The sound is as sharp and brutal as a whip cracking. It splits the air in two and for a moment Katara herself doesn't know where the noise came from, only that she's standing over Azula and the princess is silent, a scarlet handprint blossoming across her left cheek.

There's a long silence. The doorway is empty; Zuko has gone. Katara looks at Azula, struggling not to cry. She can't believe what she's done.

"You're a monster," Katara says, tears springing to her eyes. "And you try to make everyone around you into one, too." And with that she leaves, certain the sight of her crying will only increase Azula's glee.

It doesn't. Azula can't figure out why the girl is so angry, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is she's gone, that stupid girl with the ocean in her eyes.

Azula could wonder for a moment, wonder upon the strange words spilling from her mouth, familiar and bitter like childhood medicine. But if she stops to think, those pictures happen, yes. Those pictures, of people she knows and yet are strangers, of hearts that burn but never blacken with ash.

So she makes the little blue flames appear and counts the scars on her fingertips until it all fades away.

* * *

He's standing at the stern of the ship and staring out into the dark, quiet night. It's a stark contrast to the storm a few nights ago. The sea is calm and still as a mirror, reflecting the clear sky above. If he focuses on the horizon it feels like they're cutting a smooth line through the stars, sailing over the sky and past the moon.

She touches his shoulder lightly, hesitantly. First she brushes her fingertips across his tunic, then she rests them for a moment, and when he still doesn't pull away she finally allows her whole hand to lay upon his shoulder. It's strange and he can't decide whether it annoys him or not. Everyone else has always pushed him, shoved him, placed their hands upon him with determination and confidenc_e._

He moves away from her. Katara lets her hand drop.

"I'm sorry," she says, the words not coming easily to her.

"For what?"

She gestures helplessly, then speaks.

"I slapped your sister."

Zuko turns away from her but he's too slow; she spots the tiny, momentary smile.

"It's not funny!" she protests. "It's a horrible feeling. I've hardly ever hit anyone. I know it's what she wanted me to do, too. She wanted to make a monster out of me."

"You're not a monster," Zuko says distantly, his face closing up as his thoughts return to Azula's words. Katara struggles to draw him back out.

"Don't listen to her. She's crazy, remember? She can't remember anything." Katara hesitates, choosing her next words carefully. "I bet your mother never, ever forgets you. She thinks about you every day."

"You don't know anything about her," Zuko counters.

"She's your mother, Zuko. Mothers never forget, just like their children don't." She touches the carved ivory upon her neck and turns away. After a lengthy silence she speaks again, broaching the subject that's been haunting her. "Do you think we made the right decision, going to Sun?"

There's a long silence. She waits.

Zuko shrugs at last and turns away to gaze into the dark sea.

"I don't know."

* * *

Katara watches him the next day. She's decided to not ask again and bide her time for his answer. Patience is not Katara's strongest point and more than once she forces herself to bite her tongue.

The afternoon is dying now, casting a deepening light. It's the colour of autumn, a slow warm descent into dusk. The sun richly illuminates them, casting an amber glow over everything Katara sees. She was, at first, leaning over the railing and observing the sea frothing at the side of the ship, but now she stands with her back to the railing. She's observing something which currently demands more of her attention: Zuko.

He's sitting with his back against the capstan, his legs sprawled casually across the sun-warmed deck and his head bent low as he examines a scroll, the paper thin and translucent between his fingers.

At first Katara turned her attention to him merely to see if an answer was clear in his face, but now her mind drifts. His face is turned away from the sun and hidden from view by a rough fringe of hair. She idly notes the way the sun catches on each strand, the way long shadows dance at his fingertips...

Katara shakes herself as if to wake from a dream, surprised to find that her heavy gaze has not drawn the Firebender's attention. But he's absorbed in his task still, oblivious to the world around him as his shadows lengthen and the sunlight dies upon his lips.

"Sun."

Katara looks up slowly, her gaze shifting from his lips to his eyes.

"Yes, it's setting," she murmurs.

He gives her an odd look. "I think we made the right decision."

"What? Oh, yes! Of course. Sun."

"But my uncle will be worried," he says reluctantly. "And your friends will be worrying about you."

"Us," Katara clarifies. "Our friends will be worried about us. They're your friends too."

If this has cheered Zuko up, he doesn't indicate it at all. He leans back, gazing up at the sky for a moment, letting the scroll fall away from his hands. A last ray of sun paints his throat in a golden glow.

Katara's feeling quite lucid suddenly. It must be the warm sun, she thinks. She forces herself to pay attention and study the sea ahead, casting a quick look behind her. Zuko's chest rises and falls slowly, steadily, and she hasn't the heart to bring him back to reality, even with a soft whisper or gentle hand.

So she consults the compass, double-checks the map and makes her way to the helm.

* * *

The night edges past, the silken shadows of darkness whispering alongside the ship as the stars glitter above. Katara pauses in her duties a few times. The first time, she casts a blanket over Zuko as the night carries away the heat of the day. The second time, she eats a meal and engages in a brisk walk to keep fatigue at bay. The third time, she observes Azula.

The girl appears only once during the night. At least, only once to Katara, who suspects that Azula often wanders around but still maintains the lightness of step that makes her evade any witnesses.

She only sees her as a fleeting shadow, crossing the deck quickly and disappearing in a blink. Katara spends a few moments scanning the area until spotting a pale smudge in the night: Azula's face. She's paused halfway up the ladder to the crow's nest. From what Katara can make out, the girl has chosen to simply stop and turn her face to the sea and sky, her hair blowing wildly as she gazes across the horizon. After a long time, Azula finally resumes her nimble climb, at last reaching the crow's nest. And there she sits until dawn, simply staring at the world.

* * *

Dawn is beautiful when it breaks. At first the darkness merely lightens to a bluish haze, as though uncertain of its departure. It's a strange moment, caught halfway between day and night, but then the moment passes. The night lifts with a heavy sigh as sunrise lances the sky with cardinal reds and brilliant purples.

Zuko stands behind her, his expression soft with drowsiness.

"Where are we?" he murmurs, his voice rough, yet to adjust to the break of day and the demands it makes of his body.

"If I've got it right," Katara says, "we're officially in Earth Kingdom waters." She's expecting Zuko to question her: why didn't she wake him up? Why did she just take over? What if she'd fallen asleep at the helm? What if Azula did something?

She waits. The silence stretches on.

"I can take over," Zuko says at last. "You need rest."

Katara turns and looks at him with surprise; he's blinking slightly in the new daylight, neither frowning nor smiling.

"Okay," she says, letting go of the helm as Zuko reaches for it. Their hands touch, fingers overlapping momentarily.

She walks away, pausing briefly to glance back at him.

* * *

Azula sees everything. All the tiny details. The way the sea roars at night, the way the sun smooths it out like a mother drawing her hand across a child's brow. The way the sky grows grey and tired with rain, the way the mornings make it pure and azuline, the same colour as the flames that she creates.

The way the Waterbender stares at her brother while he sleeps in the sunlight.

Azula sees everything, but understands nothing and she knows it.


	8. Chapter 8

They settle into daily life aboard the ship. Katara finds clothes drying in the engine room, steam rising from Zuko's tunic. He, in turn, finds a hair comb by the helm. She notices he likes to meditate before bed each night, and doesn't disturb him; he notes that she likes to keep the galley a certain way and does his best to keep it so.

They both like to discuss matters over dinner - not that there's any other time to really have conversations. With their destination settled on, she and Zuko have thrown themselves into ensuring a smooth voyage - from predicting weather conditions, to filling out the daily captain's log, to performing maintenance duties. The bilge pump must be checked for debris, the steering cables inspected for damage. The engine requires constant attention, always hungry for fuel, and the helm must be manned. Fresh fish must be caught each day for dinner, and the stored food must be rationed.

Katara is always grateful when the sun fades from the sky, for that means Zuko will kill the engine and she will lower the anchor. They will eat, talk until the evening light fades, retire to their respective cabins.

It's a routine that Katara could get used to.

* * *

She stands on the deck and watches the moon rise in the sky. It's nearing mid-autumn. The maple trees will be shedding their leaves, the plum blossoms will be preparing for an early bloom. The mountain flowers will be in full colour.

But she is not standing upon rolling hills. There are no dewy flowers beneath her feet.

She wishes she could see the leaves of autumn. Brilliant oranges, reds...the colour of gold...

"Katara?"

She turns and smiles quickly. "Just admiring the moon."

He walks across the deck slowly until he is standing next to her, and removes a chart from one pocket and a navigational instrument from the other. Checking their coordinates, Katara realises.

"What's that?" she asks, gesturing to the navigational instrument.

"An astrolabe," Zuko says. When she frowns, he tries another term. "Some people call it a star-taker."

"A star-taker," Katara repeats, suddenly struck by the notion of somebody climbing into the sky, reaching up and stealing the stars one by one. Zuko seems to know what she's thinking; amusement flashes through his eyes.

"It doesn't take any stars. Would you like to see how it works?"

"Yes."

He holds it overhead and aligns the rotating pointer, showing Katara how certain stars or planets can be seen in a straight line through pinhole sights.

"The Helio Sequence," he says, pointing to a constellation of stars. "It's how I measure the accuracy of the compass."

"The Helio Sequence," Katara echoes, then smiles. "Is that what the Fire Nation people call it? In the Water Tribe, we call it Tui."

"Tui?"

"Yes, after one of our moon guardians." She traces her finger across the night sky, wondering if he remembers the North Pole fish. "What's the Helio Sequence named after?"

"There are four stars in the Helio Sequence, one for each day of a sun warrior's quest." He pauses and looks to her, as if thinking she'll be bored. But she smiles encouragingly, keen to hear the tale.

"On the first day..." he begins.

She listens as he speaks of lava storms, and great warriors, and dragons with iron scales and bellies full of fire. At first she gazes through the astrolabe, observing the clear stars, but then she turns her attention to him, watching as he draws his tale to an end.

"Anyway, I'm going to get some sleep," he says, stifling a yawn. "Goodnight, Katara."

"Goodnight," Katara calls after him. She stands for a moment, alone on the deck, and then looks down at the astrolabe, turning it over in her hands and thinking of the great warriors Zuko described. The tales of epic quests and journeys, the acts of heroism and strength.

"The Helio Sequence," she murmurs. One star for each day.

Her moment of reflection is broken. Suddenly aware of being watched, Katara glances up. A short distance away, Azula stands, staring at the Waterbender with an unmoving gaze. Feeling strangely whimsical, Katara bows briefly.

"Goodnight, Azula," she says, putting down the astrolabe and leaving.

Behind her, the princess picks up the instrument.

* * *

She watches the Waterbender leave, then turns her attention to the stars.

Fire sages and sun warriors. The tales of Firebenders borne from volcanoes. The mighty dragons of old.

Somebody had told her those tales once. Every night, before she went to sleep. The soft words washing over her:

'_What story tonight, Azula?'_

The princess shakes away the memory sharply, her hands tightening into fists, and stares up at the night sky. Stars could be anything. The Helio Sequence could just as easily be a horse or a heart or nothing at all.

People like to create things. Make something out of nothing. A collection of icy rocks becomes the story of a legendary warrior.

People and their meaningless dreams.

Azula idly traces patterns on the cold brass of the astrolabe.

* * *

The cooling temperatures and moody weather mark the passing of autumn. Katara listens to the dapple of rain across the deck, snug and warm in the galley as she prepares dinner. She reaches for a jar of dried seaweed, surveying the contents of the pantry and mentally calculating their rations. Not much left.

"Katara?"

She glances up, still slightly absorbed in her task. "Yes?"

Zuko looks slightly shifty. "Do you have a hand-mirror?"

The Waterbender raises an eyebrow and places the jar of seaweed back down.

"There's one in my cabin."

"Okay, thanks," Zuko says, quickly turning to leave. Katara grins. He's hardly going to get away that easily.

"Not so fast. Why do you want it?"

"Uh...just...to cut my hair," he mutters, self-consciously touching a hand to the back of his neck. Katara notes that his hair _is_ getting rather unruly.

"You're not really going to cut your own hair?"

"I've cut it before," he says defensively.

"And I bet it looked great."

"Well - after it grew out - "

"That's it." Katara steps around the counter. "No way I'm letting you cut your own hair."

"Thanks, but - "

"I don't mind doing it." She searches around the galley cupboards for a moment, producing a shallow bowl, and fills it with water. "Got a razor? Soap? Towel?"

"What do you need all those things for? Can't you just...cut it?"

Katara rolls her eyes and pushes him out the door.

* * *

It's only when he's sitting in front of her, waiting for the first cut, when she realises exactly how intimate it is. They are in Zuko's cabin, lamps casting a soft light over the scene, and Katara wonders if they should have selected another place.

She steps behind him, comb and razor at the ready, and touches a hand to his jaw.

"Chin up," she says. He wordlessly tilts his head back and she pauses a moment before dipping the comb into water and drawing it through his hair.

Katara works in silence, wondering how she never realised how tactile this would be. She runs her comb through his damp hair, tousles it with her fingers, brushes it away from his eyes. She touches his cheek, indicating which way to turn his head. She runs her fingers along the nape of his neck, chasing away the stray strands, noting that he tenses slightly when she does so.

"Tickles," he explains, his shoulders relaxing again.

Katara makes the last cut and dips the razor into the bowl of water again, washing it clean. She brushes the strands away from his shoulders and stands back.

"All done."

He stands up and thanks her, touching a hand to his still-damp hair.

"No problem," she says, bidding him goodnight and leaving, taking the bowl of water with her.

It is a memory that becomes engraved in her mind: standing in the lamp-lit room, the soft glow around them, the quiet rasp of the razor. And she wonders how it could be the most intimate moment of her life - more so then holding hands with a boy, or kissing Aang.

She can still feel strands of his hair caught in her clothes, needling into her skin.

Fragile, yet so sharp.

* * *

The days pass as quickly and fluidly as the water that flows through Katara's hands. Zuko often naps in the late afternoon sun, sitting on the deck, and she watches him each time. And every evening her gaze lingers a little longer and she takes more care covering him with a blanket, tucking it around his body, plucking invisible lint from the soft cotton of his tunic. Away in the crow's nest, she often sees Azula's silhouette.

It's routine, a familiar and slow routine that Katara enjoys, although she never really notices it. She does, however, wish there was more spare time during their busy days and restful nights. Time for another game of Pai Sho, for more conversations, for them to lean over the deck railing and tell stories, stories of foreign lands and legends of constellations. But the ship keeps them busy with its hunger for fuel and demand for constant maintenance.

Nevertheless, Katara sometimes finds time to seek Zuko out and ask him questions, questions he's always able to answer. It's a windy autumn evening when Katara asks him about a certain knowledge guardian.

"Have you heard of Wan Shi Tong?"

She's sitting on the deck, as usual, facing Zuko. He, in turn, is leaning against the capstan, eyes half-closed. She waits for him to nod in assent, as ever, but instead he leans forward, the sun angling across his face. Drowsiness steals away from his eyes as interest takes over.

"The name sounds familiar," he says.

"The knowledge spirit that guards the spirit-world library," Katara elaborates and he frowns.

"I thought that was just a myth."

"No," Katara replies. "Wan Shi Tong brought his library into the physical world. Into the middle of a desert, to be exact." She pauses. "I've been there."

Zuko leans forward. "Really? What did you find?"

Katara settles back, the sunlight fading as she tells her story. Above them, Azula watches as the figures talk. Zuko nods with interest as Katara gestures, her eyes shining.

"...and poor Toph had to choose between the library and Appa," Katara says, finishing her tale. Zuko leans back.

"So that's how the bison got stolen," he says, "and ended up in Lake Laogai."

"Where you set him free," Katara says, looking at the Firebender in front of her and suddenly thinking how of far he'd come from the angry prince who first sent fire cartwheeling across the icy plains of her childhood.

He yawns, oblivious to her thoughts, and tilts his head back. The setting sun illuminates his skin in a way familiar, by now, to Katara. She watches as it tints his throat a golden colour and follows the slope of his neck, noting where the tunic has loosened slightly to reveal the smooth dip of his collarbone. The shadows dance at his fingertips, an invisible song strumming against his body.

Overhead, Azula stares into the dying sun, oblivious to the blushing Waterbender below.

* * *

One afternoon, Katara is tidying the maps and charts away, neatening the wheelhouse. She discovers many alcoves with curious objects; one nook in particular holds a collection of flags.

She catches the colour of the Water Tribe - blue - and pulls the flag free, unfurling it, surprised to see the unusual colour aboard a Fire Nation ship.

"I hope you're not planning to use that."

Katara glances around, finding Zuko leaning on the doorway.

"Why? What's it for?" She looks down at the blue flag.

"When a captain or officer dies, that flag is flown."

"Oh!" She quickly rolls it back up, hoping that she didn't bring bad luck by unfurling it. "I didn't realise."

To her surprise, he comes over to her and pulls out another flag, letting it unravel. It's red with a long white stripe across it.

"These are signal flags. They all send different messages. This one means 'permission to anchor.'"

"What about this one?" Katara holds up another flag.

"I am in distress and need immediate assistance."

"Hopefully we'll never need to use that one, either," Katara says, starting to tuck the flag away, but Zuko stops her.

"You should remember that one, just in case. And this one." He holds up a red and yellow flag. "This one means 'medical help urgently needed.'"

Katara commits the details of the flag to memory. Medical help. Red with yellow.

"Any other important ones?"

"This one." He holds up a white flag with a blue cross upon it. "It means 'I am abandoning my vessel. Send help.'"

She nods and touches a hand to the flag, thinking how much Zuko knows about ships. He knows more than anyone else she's met - even among her own people, the Water Tribe, who were born with the ocean in their blood. Three years on a ship, she supposes, will impose vast nautical knowledge upon anyone.

"What do you do if the ship is on fire, and you can't get to the flags?"

Zuko laughs. "If the ship is on fire, I don't think flags are needed to get anybody's attention."

Katara blushes, wondering why she didn't think her question through. However, Zuko doesn't dwell on it; he simply asks if she knows how to hoist flags.

"No."

"I can show you how." He looks at her, hesitant for a moment. "If you want to."

"Of course."

She smiles, always eager to learn more.

* * *

They stand on the stern of the ship, the afternoon light washing over the waves. However, their attention isn't on the scenic ocean before them. Rather, their gaze is fixed upon ropes and toggles.

"Attach the flag like this." Zuko's hands move deftly; Katara frowns, not quite catching the movements. He notes her confusion and takes her hand. "Like this."

His skin is slightly cooler than she thought it would be. His hand guides hers over the ropes, over the flag. The soft material brushes against her palm; his fingers enclose hers.

"Do you understand?" Zuko asks, letting go of her hand. Snapped out her reverie, Katara looks up at his face.

"Show me again."

He takes her hand once more, wrapping her fingers around the halyard and murmuring instructions. Katara nods and pays careful attention.

Even though she got it the first time.

* * *

Just a few days later, the end of their journey comes into sight. They're by the helm, entertaining themselves with a game of Elements and making bets with crackers. Zuko's palm curls to mimic the shape of a wave. Simultaneously, Katara holds up three fingers in the sign of fire.

"Tough luck," she say, collecting a cracker from Zuko's pile. "On the count of three?" She watches his face, trying to decide what element he'll go with. She narrows her eyes and forms the air sign. Zuko grins triumphantly over his closed fist – the earth sign – and takes his cracker back.

"You know if we were actually Bending, I'd beat you, right?" Katara teases. "I've seen better flames from a fire-ant."

"I've seen better waves from a puddle," Zuko retorts.

"Oh yeah?" Katara is about to make another remark when Zuko stands up, frowning. "What? What's the matter?" she asks, confused, wondering if he mistook their banter for real insults. He doesn't reply, walking past her and gazing out past the helm. She follows his gaze, then -

"Is that - is that the Earth Kingdom coastline?"

A dark line smudges the horizon.

"Yes."

"How much further?" Katara asks, her heartbeat quickening.

"One day's travel, if the weather stays the same."

They stand together, staring at the faraway coastline.

* * *

Across the deck, a girl stands alone, her expression unreadable as she gazes skyward. As the last of the evening-light leaves, somebody lights a lantern by the helm. She turns her attention to the soft glow.

Perhaps another person gazing at that glow would call it warm. A warm glow. Orange is a warm colour, a passionate colour. Next to it, Azula's blue flame would look cold, as icy as winter.

But Azula knows, she knows, yes, she knows that the blue flame holds the most heat of all. In its deep heart lies a fire and blazing heat that ends all others. She wields it like the weapon it is, this strange thing that holds more warmth than all of her heart, all of her memories, all of the lovely things she's spoiled.

So she closes her eyes and dreams, dreams of lightning and faces that cry out as they drift alone down the galleries of space and time.

* * *

That night, they chart the last day of their voyage, their heads bent close together as they pore over maps.

"If I've calculated it right, we should arrive in the evening at Port Makapu."

"I see. We'll approach from the south-east." Katara taps her finger on the map, then glances up. "And then what?"

"It will take a fortnight to reach Sun by foot."

"I'll pack some rations. What else do we need?"

They plan their journey well into the night. By the time the moon has reached its apex, Zuko has been silent for a while and Katara realises, with a smile, that he's asleep. Beneath his eyelids, his eyes flicker. He's dreaming. She stretches out her hand for a moment, reaching for his shoulder before changing her mind and touching his hand.

"Zuko, wake up."

He rouses himself, disorientated for a few seconds before shaking the remnants of sleep away.

"I guess we should get some rest for tomorrow."

"That's a good idea. Goodnight, Zuko." She stands to leave.

"Goodnight, Katara."

They go their separate ways. Katara passes by the galley and spots Azula inside, rifling through cupboards; she pauses, then doubles back.

"If you're hungry, I saved you a serving. It's on the counter."

Azula glances around and reaches for the plate. Katara continues on her way, frowning slightly. The princess has been rather docile of late. Maybe she's in a good mood. Pleased about something.

_Maybe Zuko was right_, a little voice whispers. _She's playing games with you...manipulating your emotions...making Zuko feel hope for his mother, and making you feel..._

Feel what?

Katara glances back over her shoulder, then turns and hurries away.

* * *

And later on, in bed, she holds the five-pronged Fire Lord headpiece and wonders if Zuko would be mad to discover she had Waterbended it from the waves after he'd discarded it.

_Probably_, she thinks.

She falls asleep holding it in one hand.


End file.
